


Do You Fear the Devil?

by AnMorrighan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blood and Violence, Detectives, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied Sexual Content, Jack the Ripper Murders, London, Medical Examination, Murder, Police, Prostitution, Sexual Violence, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnMorrighan/pseuds/AnMorrighan
Summary: You are one of the many working women roaming the streets of Whitechapel when a madman begins to murder your comrades one by one. The attacks are so gruesome, that the detectives can only describe his work as that of “a devil than of a man”. Loki Laufeyson is a Metropolitan police detective and surgeon who is assisting on the case. As more bodies pile up and you and your friends fear for your lives, the police remain well and truly stumped. When Detective Laufeyson turns to you for help to find the murderer, you must face your fears to save yourself… But who can you really trust when you are the prey being stalked at night by someone who calls himself Jack the Ripper?





	1. Mary Ann Nichols

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got inspired recently and am happy to announce that I’ll be trying my hand at my first Loki x Reader short fic! I’m thinking of about eight parts, that I’ll upload between chapters of Unofferable (which shan’t be abandoned!). I hope y'all enjoy the first instalment and feel free to leave a comment and say howdy. I’m really eager to hear your thoughts as always! Expect gore, horror, drama, some romance, and our favourite Avengers as Police Detectives. It should be an interesting ride! It’s a little different from my usual stuff, so I really hope y’all like it! Feel free to give me a shout over on my Tumblr too (unofferable-fic). Happy reading!
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “The Curse” — Agnes Obel, “The Knights Theme” — Jason Graves, “Through the Valley” — Shawn James

_31st August 1888, 2.30am._

“Is it just me, or is it colder than usual tonight?”

As if answering your own question, a light mist appeared from your mouth as you spoke, before fading away in the night’s breeze.

“It’s not just you,” Natasha replied, wrapping her shawl tighter around herself while you both enjoyed a brief pause in that evening’s constant rain showers. “I’m freezing my arse off.”

You had been working on the streets of Whitechapel for some time now. You didn’t dislike your job — you had grown quite accustomed to everything that went with it and you enjoyed the pay, but things had grown more difficult in the last few years. Parliament had passed an act which basically made life more difficult for you and your fellow prostitutes. There were tougher stances on brothels and prostitution in general thanks to that decision, and you were seen as something of a public nuisance to the more _respectable_ citizens who frequented taverns and hotels within the community. When once you were able to roam the streets with your fellow workers with little abuse, now you faced the very possibility of repression.

Attacks on prostitutes had risen too, which was why you were currently walking up Whitechapel Road with your friend Natasha, with whom you worked at a local brothel. She had been at the business for a lot longer than you since she moved to London from Russia, and was more than happy to show you the ropes when you had first arrived yourself. She was a passive person when she wanted to be and earning her trust was difficult, but you always felt that she was a very valuable friend to have on your side once the trust was gained. It was especially useful when you found yourselves leaving the brothel to try find some clientele with whom you could return. Your current pairing was due to a string of attacks on local prostitutes. Violence was not uncommon in the area, and it was mostly normal to hear cries for help during the night. These usually went unanswered. Back in April, poor Emma Smith was attacked by a gang of men and subsequently died of her injuries, and, only weeks ago, a seasoned prostitute called Martha Tabram was stabbed to death in George Yard. There was nothing easy about soliciting anyway, but the recent events left a dark cloud hanging above most of your friends’ heads.

But what else was there to do?

If it wasn’t for your work, you would surely died from poverty.

“I hate nights like these,” you mumbled as your shoes clinked on the stone cobbles below. “I would much prefer to stay in the warmth of the brothel.”

“Needs must,” Natasha replied. “Sometimes you have to give the men a little push to get some money in your pocket. Consider yourself lucky that you’re not one of the women who have to find lodgings this way.”

Given how a lot of the brothels in London were filthy and usually involved having most of your earnings taken by those who ran it, you were lucky enough to find an establishment that mostly serviced high-class clients, or those who were deeply trusted. The madame who owned the place was surprisingly fair too, and you were quite satisfied with your wage.

Natasha made a fair point though, and you knew that. There were a lot of women residing in workhouses or lodgings who regularly solicited on the streets just so they could keep a roof over their heads. Sometimes they possessed an excessive fondness for drink, so most of their earnings were pissed away on funding their addiction. You knew some of these women too, and it only served to fuel your thankfulness for the current situation in which you resided.

The pair of you were passing down a lane way before heading to a local tavern in which some of your regulars drank. Sometimes you picked up clients when strolling through the lane, so neither of you thought there was any harm in checking. As you walked through the shadowed archway, you noticed a figure at the opposite end of the lane.

He stood beneath the archway and wore a long black coat with a tall hat atop his head. He was a surprisingly well-dressed and respectable looking individual — not the sort you usually found in the lane.

“What about him?” you asked Natasha, pointing to the waiting figure in the distance.

Her eyes followed your pointing finger. “Well, men wait ’round here for only one reason in particular. He’s an odd-looking sort though.”

“He seems fairly normal to me,” you shrugged as you both continued walking towards him. “He may be the wealthy sort.”

Natasha seemed unconvinced. “We will have to walk by him anyway. I suppose there is no harm in asking what he fancies.”

Perhaps hearing your chatting, the distant figure raised his head and looked in your direction. Though you could not make out his shadowed face beneath the brim of his hat, the dark moustache on his upper lip was the only signifying feature visible. With a swift glance over his shoulder back towards the main road, he turned and slowly made his way towards you, full lips pulling into a friendly smile.

“Like fish in a barrel,” Natasha mused, linking your arm with hers and continuing forward.“Stick with me, Y/N. I want to check this lad out before we agree to anything.”

You trusted Natasha with your life, so you eagerly agreed and walked forward.

“Oi! Miss Romanoff! Miss Y/L/N! Over ‘ere!”

At that moment, at the archway where the mysterious figure had previously stood, a regular customer of yours, James Rhodes, appeared. He beckoned you and Natasha over with a wave just as stranger was getting closer. You looked at your fiend for guidance on whether to give your regular priority above the stranger, but it seemed that the latter had made the decision for you. As he walked by, he tipped the brim of his hat down in greeting, subsequently covering his face, and passed without enquiring about your services. You glanced briefly at him as he went, momentarily confused by the exchange, before turning your attention back to Rhodes as he approached.

“I was hoping to bump into you two,” he said with a genuine grin. He was one of the rare few people in Whitechapel that didn’t treat you like an animal. He was always fair, and always paid for your services with a friendly smile. It was the main reason why you liked him as a regular. “Fancy a drink at the Frying Pan?”

“And why exactly did you not come to the brothel?” Natasha asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Instead you expect us to come running after you?”

“I was getting to that, love. I have a new guy for you to meet!” He offered an arm to you and Natasha and then began walking. “He just started at my job and seems like the shy type. I was thinking, come have a few drinks with us and then we can drag him back to the brothel once he’s relaxed a bit.”

“Free drinks and more pay?” You pondered aloud, hanging on to his slender arm. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

Natasha smiled at you approvingly. “As will I.”

“Great!” James exclaimed, and strode happily towards the tavern.

You had spent over an hour with the two men and your friend in the Frying Pan Pub. The new man, Scott, was shy as James had claimed, but he also seemed to be quite genuine and talkative once he was engaged. He was pleasant company and had no problem buying you drinks once you relaxed him. It was nearly 4am when you left the pub, the men now quite eager to return to the brothel. Scott offered you his arm and you happily took it before walking with them up Whitechapel Road. While you were well used to roaming the streets at night, you felt s lot more comfortable doing it when in the company of men who treated you as well as you deserved. 

It was upon passing by the narrow and cobblestoned Buck’s Row that you noticed the commotion. A small crowd was gathered on the corner, peering down the alleyway at a handful of police constables who were examining something on the ground. They held their lanterns towards the unmoving bundle on the western end.

“What’s all that about?” Scott asked, halting and looking down the lane.

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Natasha muttered. “Don’t tell me it’s another attack.”

James looked between her and the investigating police. “Looks dodgy enough from here. I can’t see much though.”

“Excuse me, excuse me,” a polite voice cut through their conversation. You turned your head and saw a man shimmying his way through the gathered flock of observers. You recognised him as Doctor Banner, who lived in the area and sometimes worked as a Medical Officer for certain divisions in the area. He was also one of Natasha’s most frequent clients. “Excuse me, doctor coming through.”

“ _That_ can’t be good,” Scott said as Dr Banner and another PC approached their peers and a police ambulance was pulled into the lane. “Maybe they’re still alive?”

“What if this is connected to the other attacks?” you asked Natasha with a frown.

The red-haired woman looked back at you and shook her head. “Then we may have to stick closer together from now on.”

“We can stay here for a little while if you ladies want?” James offered, nodding to the spot where the body lay. “Incase we hear any information that might help you look after yourselves.” He looked around briefly before he nudged a man next to him. “Did you hear what happened?”

The man nodded, fiddling with his flat cap in his hands. “Police found some wagtail lying there in a pool of blood with ’er throat cut. It looks like she was dead before they got ’ere.”

“So it is another attack then,” you realised anxiously. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Then we should stay here for a while,” Natasha suggested. “We stick together and try to get what information we can. Maybe we can identify the poor woman.”

“We’ll stay too,” James declared. “I’d rather keep an eye on you two tonight. Scott and I can escort you back to the brothel later.”

You thanked your client for his kindness, something that was hard to come by those days, and you weren’t about to brush it off anytime soon. You were beginning to worry about these attacks more than usual, but you could feel that something was truly amiss this time. Though you could’t place it, you trusted your gut, and would heed its warnings. You looked on in concern as Dr Banner stooped down next to the unmoving woman and began his examination.

“When did you find her like this?” Dr Banner asked his colleagues as he studied the severe wound on her throat.

“Only about fifteen minutes ago,” Sergeant Steven Rogers replied. “I had been ’round here half an hour previously, and saw no one then. I was on the right side when I noticed a figure lying in the street. It was dark at the time, but there was not a soul about. Then I saw Bucky on the street and asked him to fetch you. Sam arrived after being alerted by the two men who found her on their way to work.”

PC James Buchanan Barnes stood on the sidelines, looking between the crowd and the busy doctor from under the brim of his helmet. “Looks like word spread pretty quick.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised by that,” PC Samuel Wilson mumbled as he halted the police ambulance nearby. “We should ask the neighbours and the Night Watchman if they heard anything.”

“I already spoke with the three slaughter-men who work on Winthrop Street,” PC Barnes informed him with a smug smile. The two constables were always trying to one-up each other, and it was beginning to do Sgt Rogers’ head in. The three slaughter-men he spoke of were currently on the scene, having been asked to remain there while the examination was conducted. “They say they heard nothing, but we are going to take them in for questioning to be safe.”

PC Wilson started clapping sarcastically. “Well done, Barnes. I am sure your actions have saved this woman’s life!”

“Yeah, and some help you were, Wilson! That ambulance is going to come in really handy when she’s already dead.”

“The pair of you need to shut up before I dismiss you both,” Sgt Rogers stated impatiently and then turned back to the occupied Dr Banner. “Is she dead, Doctor?”

“With a cut to the throat _that_ severe? Unfortunately. She wasn’t going to make it out of this one. Her wrists and hands are cold too.” Dr Banner studied her through his spectacles as he continued his examination. “But her legs are warm.”

“And that means?” PC Barnes urged him onwards.

“That she can not have been dead for more than half an hour.”

Sgt Rogers looked bothered by this revelation. “The culprit was probably still in the area when those two men found her.”

“Most likely…” Dr Banner continued with his examination for a few minutes. He appeared unsettled by the sightseers at the end of the lane and quickly stated. “We should move the body to the mortuary on Old Montague Street. That crowd is starting to get too big for my liking and I can make a more detailed examination there later today.”

“You’ve never been one for crowds,” Sgt Rogers commented before gesturing for PC Barnes to assist him in moving the body. “C’mon, Buck. We have to move her; doctor’s orders.”

Without complaint, PC Barnes got to work, and helped his friend to lift the corpse into the police ambulance, which was nothing more than a wooden handcart. As they moved her, they noticed that the back of her clothing was completely soaked in blood.

“Ah shite,” PC Barnes said in surprise. “Steve, there’s blood everywhere.”

“Well, she does have a gaping neck wound, Barnes.”

“Shut it, Wilson!”

“Buck has a point,” Sgt Rogers added before pointing to a mass of congealed blood that had been underneath her body and was now running towards the gutter. “There isn’t much blood on the spot where you found her. She might have been dumped here and murdered elsewhere.”

“Possibly,” Dr Banner mused. “There is not more than would fill two wine glasses, or half a pint, maybe. I will know more when I perform the examination. Perhaps witness testimonies can confirm as to whether they heard any noise.”

Sgt Rogers carefully helped to place the body in the cart and turned his attention back to the doctor. “We will know more about that when we interview the neighbours. Hopefully they heard something.”

PC Barnes looked at his hands in mild irritation and saw that they were covered in the blood that had soaked into the victims clothes. “Identifying the victim might help? I could ask around — I’m sure there are some dollymops here that could provide information.”

“Good call. Take Wilson with you and then interview the neighbours after.”

“Awh, c’mon, Steve—!”

“If you two could go a _single day_ without arguing, that would be _fantastic_. Get to work!”

PCs Barnes and Wilson trudged off towards the onlooking crowd, urging them back as they went.

Dr Banner turned his attention back to Sgt Rogers as he spoke. “While they tend to that, it might be a good idea to call Doctor Laufeyson.”

“I already asked Bucky to get on it,” the sergeant replied. “He called for him while calling for you, but he wasn’t at his home, so he’ll probably be late. I have another sergeant out looking for him though, so hopefully he will arrive soon. I will help you move her to the mortuary in the meantime. Those two twats can bring him up to speed when he arrives.”

They patiently waited beside the ambulance for someone who could possibly identify the body to be brought forward.

You watched as the two constables approached the crowd in which you stood. You were ushered back as they ordered for people to disperse. One of them ran his blue eyes over you, idly stroking the stubble on his chiselled jaw. You met his gaze before he shoved his loose hair beneath his helmet and then eyed Natasha at your side. 

“You two,” he said, pointing at the pair of you. “Step forward, please, ladies.”

While James and Scott threw you hesitant looks, you obeyed the police, Natasha leading the way as you slipped through the now dispersing crowd. Your colleague was immediately on the defensive, but you didn’t exactly blame her. “What do you want?”

The constable seemed slightly taken aback by her tone, while his own colleague chuckled. Blue Eyes replied. “Relax, sweetheart! I’m PC Barnes and this is my irritating associate, PC Wilson. We just want to see if you can identify the victim. You were in similar employment, it would seem.”

She eyed them suspiciously. “And that’s all you want?”

“Of course. Follow me, ladies.”

You stood close to Natasha as the constables lead you to the police ambulance up the lane. Sergeant Rogers introduced himself to you while Dr Banner tried to hide his blush when he recognised Natasha. She merely smirked and said nothing, not wanting to lessen the man’s reputation in front of his peers.

You and Natasha looked at the body together, momentarily surprised by the gaping wound in the woman’s throat. Violence was such a normal part of life in Whitechapel and you saw plenty of it, but this was on another level. You didn’t know why, but something about this left you feeling more uneasy than usual. There was something so… _visceral_ about the slash the knife had caused. She never stood a chance. Once you had forced your eyes away from the cut, you gazed upon her ashen face. Her unfocused eyes stared at nothing, all signs of life gone from them. 

After a moment, you turned to your friend. “I think I have seen her before.”

“Where?” Sgt Rogers asked you in concern.

“Did she hang around with Emily Holland?” you pressed Natasha, ignoring the sergeant. “You know the girl who stays in the lodging house on Thrawl Street?”

She nodded in agreement. “You’re spot on, Y/N.”

Sgt Rogers tried to grab your attention again. “Do you know her name?”

“I can’t be sure, but I think I heard Emily refer to her as Polly before.”

“Wilson,” he began, addressing his partner. “I want you to find this Emily Holland in the morning. She can give us a proper identification so that we can be sure.” He offered you a curt smile and nodded. “Thank you for your assistance, madams.”

“A bit of assistance on your end would be helpful,” Natasha said in earnest. “These attacks are getting out of hand and we can’t make a living with our lives at risk.”

“I understand,” the sergeant tried to reassure her as he covered up the body with a sheet. “And we will do our best to apprehend the man who did this.”

“You better,” you added with a shake of the head. “We’ll be waiting nearby to make sure that you do.”

“You like watching men at work, huh, sweetheart?” PC Barnes asked her as his eyebrows rose suggestively for a brief moment.

You rolled your eyes at him. “I have to watch sometimes, you rantallion. Otherwise you lot would surely _fuck it up_.”

His smile immediately fell as PC Wilson burst out laughing. “Well done, Barnes. You cannot even manage to get yourself a dollymop!”

“Back to work!” their superior shushed them as you and Natasha walked back to rejoin your companions. You threw a glance at PC Barnes over your shoulder and gave him a wink. All he could do was shake his head in reply and let out a slight chuckle. 

The two men left with the ambulance, giving PCs Barnes and Wilson complete charge of the scene while they were gone. You and your friends agreed to remain there for another half hour or so while the neighbours were interviewed. After seeing the gruesome aftermath of the attack, you didn’t feel comfortable with leaving completely empty handed. You needed something to keep yourself relaxed — some sort of witness statement, a sighting, a noise… _Anything!_ If there was someone on the streets of Whitechapel out to kill prostitutes, then you needed all the information you could get.

 

* * *

 

Divisional Police Surgeon Loki Laufeyson sat some twenty minutes away in the nearby Princess Alice Pub on Commercial Street. He had a half full pint in hand and took a large gulp out of it before setting the glass back on to the bar’s counter. He pushed back his raven hair with his hand and let out a tired sigh. He was hoping for a quiet night, away from any police business. But such a wish was farfetched when you worked in Whitechapel. There was always bloody _something_ amiss around here, especially when it was your job to stop it. That being said, Loki relished his alone time as his green eyes wandered to a pair of working women sat drinking together on the other side of the pub.

They giggled together, and he ran his finger along the brim of his glass.

“Doctor Laufeyson?”

Loki suddenly heard his name being called and turned to see Sergeant Kerby standing behind him. “Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“What seems to be the matter, Sergeant?” he asked as he took another swig of his pint, suppressing the urge to tell his comrade to politely sod off.

“There’s been a murder on Buck’s Row,” he explained before he eyed the nearly empty pub. “I, eh, called to your home but you weren’t there, obviously. Your neighbour was nice enough to tell me that he saw you coming in here not long ago.”

Dr Laufeyson cleared his throat as he recalled meeting said neighbour as he was entering the pub shortly before 4 am, and momentarily cursed the old man for seeing him. “I could not sleep, so I thought a walk and a cold pint might help.”

“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait — Rogers wants you on the scene as soon as possible.”

“Right then,” the surgeon sighed and left the end of his drink on the counter. He shrugged on his coat and top-hat before nodding to the man. “Lead the way.”

The walk to Buck’s Row had been a quick one and the pair hurried through the cool night air before arriving at about 4.30am. There was a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the lane, which Sergeant Kerby claimed to have been much larger not too long ago. As they rounded the corner, gently shooing some bystanders out of the way, Loki saw Constables Barnes and Wilson speaking with three men while a young boy was throwing a bucket of water on the cobbled path. The liquid disappeared down the gutter just as the doctor noticed the distinct lack of a body. He quickly approached the PCs.

“You rang, gentlemen?” he asked as they turned to greet him.

“Morning, Dr Laufeyson,” PC Barnes said with a slight nod of the head.

“Nice of you to join us,” PC Wilson added in jest, flashing his signature gaped teeth with a grin. “You missed all the fun.”

“So it would seem,” Loki replied, looking at the scene around him. “But I was busy. Where is the body?”

“Steve and Bruce took it ’round to the mortuary already,” PC Barnes replied. “Bruce was getting put off by the size of the crowd.”

Loki released another heavy sigh, irritated by the inconvenience. He could have been far more helpful had he seen the victim where she was killed… “Where was she found?”

PC Barnes shone his lantern on a spot before them — the very spot the young boy was cleaning. “Steve found her here about forty-five minutes ago, and we have little James Green there washing down the blood. He’s the child of Mrs Emma Green who lives right here.” He gestured to the cottage right next to the murder site. “And before you ask, she said she heard nothing. Neither did the three slaughter-men who work on Winthrop Street, although I wish to question them further.”

Despite the boy’s cleaning efforts, there were still slight traces of blood between the cobblestones and Loki frowned at his ruined crime scene. “And Dr Banner’s thoughts?”

“Definitely dead when we found her, but only for about half an hour. You’ll understand when you see her throat — slashed to bits.”

“So murdered quietly and with no witnesses.” Loki surveyed the lane, looking between the spot of the murder and each end of the small street. “Do we know who she was?”

“Two obliging dollymops helped us with that,” PC Wilson explained and pointed to two women who were standing at the front of the dwindling crowd. “Pointed us in the direction of someone who should be able to give us a positive identification.”

The surgeon surveyed the women — clearly that of the working variety — where they stood, accompanied by two men. They were watching him curiously, even when he met their gaze. One of them — the fiery-looking redhead — raised a brow at him before saying something to her companion. The other woman, however, held his stare, replying to her friend without looking away. He narrowed his eyes at her and she eventually relented and turned her head in disinterest.

“Talking to them was my idea,” he vaguely heard PC Barnes add with a proud grin. “Wilson had nothing to do with it.”

In response, the other constable huffed. “Have I told you lately that you’re annoying as hell?”

“Several times, actually!”

Loki had had enough of their bickering and, knowing that he could do little more here, threw them a brief glance before stating. “I am going to the mortuary. Evening, gentlemen.”

As he exited the lane, he could feel the women’s eyes on him again, and he couldn’t help getting another quick look at them before he left. Sure enough, they were watching him closely.

He hurried around to Old Montague Street where the mortuary stood. It was little more than a brick shed, but it did the job for the most part. As Loki approached it, he was relieved to see the police ambulance still in the yard. Beside it was Sgt Rogers, who greeted him politely as always. He also explained that Dr Banner had returned home and promised to return in the morning to perform a full examination of the body. Loki gave her a quick check where she lay in the the ambulance but could see little with her clothes and the sheet covering most of her body.

Once an attendant had arrived, he and Sgt Rogers were allowed to bring the body inside and Loki quickly set about giving her a more detailed examination.

“Are you going to stay here?” he asked the sergeant, who stood beside the door with his arms folded across his chest.

Sgt Rogers merely nodded. “I just want to see you give her a once-over before I leave the coroners to their job. I’m sure your observations will be helpful, along with Bruce’s later this morning.”

“I could have been more helpful on the scene,” Loki added as he shrugged off his coat and threw on a blood-stained apron. “With the body undisturbed, but I arrived to find some boy already washing away all the evidence.”

“It was imperative that we got her out of there,” the blond replied, looking firm in his beliefs. “The crowd was getting out of hand. And you were late because you were not at home when Bucky called.”

“Whatever you say, Sergeant. What would I know, anyway? It is not like I am a Police Surgeon, or anything like that.”

“I’m not trying to undermine you, Doc. I was simply trusting Bruce’s intuition.”

“No need for apologies, I am well used to such talk.” With a sarcastic smile, Loki removed the sheet that covered the warm corpse. He felt the other man watching him as he got a good look at the victim, eyes still slightly open despite her ordeal. “There are bruises on the side of her face, possibly made by a thumb or fingers, if my guess is correct.It’s on her jaw on the right side, as if her head had been pushed back and her throat then cut.”

Barnes had not been joking about — the wounds on her neck were shockingly deep. He tilted her head slightly so he could get a better look. On the left side of the neck, about one inch below the jaw, there was an incision roughly four inches in length, and ran from a point immediately below the ear. On the same side, but an inch below, and commencing about one inch in front of it, was a circular incision, which terminated at a point about three inches below the right jaw. That incision had completely severed all the tissues down to the vertebrae, and the large vessels of the neck on both sides were severed. That incision was eight or so inches in length, Loki observed, his brow furrowing further with each detail he found. 

Essentially, she was cut from ear to ear.

“Her throat was slashed twice,” he muttered, just loud enough for his companion to hear. “It would have killed her quite instantly.”

“That explains the blood-soaked clothes…”

Loki continued his routine examination as he removed the garments covering the body. Her chest showed no injuries or bruises as he worked downwards. “It would seem that most of her blood did indeed soak into her clothes and hair, for that matter. Her breast is clear of blood or cuts as is her… _Jesus Christ._ ”

Loki’s words died on his lips as his jaw fell open. He could hear the sergeant asking what the problem was, but he ignored him and pulled back the victims skirts to get a better look at what he thought he saw.

His eyes had not played tricks on him — on her lower abdomen were three or four deep gashes, one of which was particularly violent.

As he stared at the lacerations in shock, he noticed Rogers approach the table. “Loki, what is the—” He halted in speechless surprise before he ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, _God_. What did he _do_ to her?”

Loki could only shake his head. “Send for Dr Banner, and Inspector Stark for that matter.”

“What the _hell_ happened to her?” the other man demanded, horrified by the violent sight before him.

Meeting his worried gaze, Loki’s reply was that of a man who couldn’t believe his own eyes. “She has been _disembowelled_ , Sergeant.”


	2. A Temporary Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Laufeyson tries to discover more about the unknown victim, and you receive an unexpected visit a few days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of this received really positive feedback, so thank you to those who left kudos/commented/bookmarked! It means a lot and made my heart warm and fuzzy. Please enjoy chapter 2 of this Victorian mess. Feedback in these trying times is appreciated <3 (Newspaper article credit to London Daily News)
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “The Medic” — Foxing, “Little Sadie” — Crooked Still, “The Last of Us (Cycles)” — Gustavo Santaolalla

_31st August 1888, 5.30 am._

“I apologise for having to pull you out bed for the second time this morning, Dr Banner.”

Loki would be the first to admit that his relationship with fellow doctor Bruce Banner was somewhat strained. Upon their first meeting some years ago, they both got into a drunken bar fight, one which resulted in each of them sporting black eyes and split lips going into work the following morning. They were, unsurprisingly, suspended temporarily. He could barely remember what the argument had been about — possibly in relation to Dr Banner’s consorting with prostitutes — but he definitely recalled his comrade being a _very angry_ drunk when provoked. All that being said, the pair had come to have a mutual respect for each other given their similar professions.

“It’s alright,” Dr Banner reassured him as they met him in the front yard to the mortuary. “I know you would not call me if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I can assure you that it is,” Sgt Rogers added, his lips set in a grim line. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Well, take me to her then.”

Just as the trio turned to enter the building, a man opened the door and lazily threw a bundle of bloody clothes into the yard. Loki quickly gathered that he was a pauper given his appearance, but his eyes immediately fell to the clothing of which he had disposed. He recognised it immediately.

“Where did you get those?” he barked, halting the employee before he could return inside.

“Off the body in there,” the man replied with a raised brow. “We’re washing ‘er down to prepare ‘er for burial.”

“She was _not_ to be touched!”

Sgt Rogers looked to be losing his patience. “We were told that the body would not be disturbed until Dr Banner here had conducted a full and detailed post-mortem examination!”

Loki growled in frustration and addressed the man again. “Do not lay another finger on her before we complete the examination, otherwise more evidence will be tampered with.”

Dr Laufeyson grabbed the clothes from the ground and barged past him in irritation, followed closely by Dr Banner and Sgt Rogers. The trio quickly entered the mortuary and dismissed the other senile workhouse parlour who had just about finished washing the body down. The sergeant made a show of getting their names — Robert Mann and James Hatfield, which Loki would later read in his case notes — and dismissed them. While Dr Banner attended to the body, Loki took an inventory of clothing Polly had worn during her demise, as well as the possessions on her person. Despite being washed, the blood had done its work, leaving irreversible stains in its wake. On her petticoats, he noticed a marking beneath the blood. He quickly recognised the marking as that of Lambeth Workhouse.

He called Steve over and pointed to the emblem. “You should reach out to the women in the workhouse, Sergeant. Someone may be able to help identify her.”

“I will have Wilson look into it,” Sgt Rogers replied. “Once he has dealt with the lead given to us by those other women.”

Loki thought back to the street-walkers he spotted on the scene, pointed out by PCs Wilson and Barnes. When they reentered his mind, he couldn’t help the intrigue that built up within him. “Were those women questioned any further, Sergeant?”

“Not beyond the identification of the victim.”

“They might be worth a conversation,” he explained. “They were clearly on the job that night given the men in their company. If the killer committed the other attacks and is indeed targeting prostitutes, then they might have seen or heard something suspicious.”

Steve’s blue eyes pierced into his, a frown forming on his lips. “You’re right, Doctor, but we never thought to ask their names.”

“They appeared to be well looked after, so my best guess is that they reside in a decent lodging house or brothel.”

“They work at the White Swan,” Banner stated without looking up from the body. Steve and Loki turned to look at him in surprise. It was only when he was met with silence that he looked up nervously. “I, uh, know one of the midwives employed with taking care of the brothel’s workers... I recognised them from visiting her.”

“ _Right_ ,” Dr Laufeyson drawled, easily sensing the lie. “You were always a terrible liar, Bruce.”

Dr Banner broke out into a series of unintelligible mumbles before giving up and turning his attention back to the examination. Loki simply rolled his eyes as Sgt Rogers spoke up. “I think you and I should pay a visit to the White Swan tomorrow afternoon.”

“I didn’t take you for that kind of man,” Loki said wryly, and delighted in his superior’s ears turning red. “You can hardly pay a woman while on the job, no?”

“To _interview_ them,” Steve hastily added, looking unamused with the suggestion that he might consort with prostitutes. “While Bucky and Sam work on the other leads and Dr Banner finishes up here. I’m afraid we’ll need you back here again before seven, Doctor. Inspector Stark should arrive thereabouts and will need to be filled in.”

“I will see that it’s done, Steve.”

“Thank you.” The blonde turned to Loki and nodded to the door. “Shall we?”

“You are the man in charge. Lead the way.”

Leaving the good doctor to his work, the men left the mortuary and briefly met with PCs Barnes and Wilson who had finished interviewing the neighbours. Oddly enough, no one had heard a single thing.

“Neither did the Night Watchman,” PC Barnes elaborated with a shrug. “But he’s a known dozer…”

The lack of any leads did little to improve the mood of Steve or Loki, but they hoped that the Thrawl Street and Lambeth leads would offer them more information in the morning. At the beginning of September, after they acquired some much needed information through their investigation, they turned their attention to the White Swan and two particular employees.

 

* * * 

 

** LONDON DAILY NEWS **

** Saturday, 1st September, 1888 **

** BRUTAL MURDER IN WHITECHAPEL **

_ “A murder of the most brutal kind was committed in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel in the early hours of yesterday morning, but by whom and with what motive is at present a complete mystery. _

_ At a quarter to four o'clock Police sergeant Rogers, 97J when in Buck's-row, Whitechapel, came upon the body of a woman lying on a part of the footway, and on stooping to raise her up, in the belief that she was intoxicated, he discovered that her throat was cut almost from ear to ear. _

_ Assistance was procured, a messenger being sent at once to the station and for a doctor. _

_ Dr. Banner, of Whitechapel-road, whose surgery is not more than 300 yards from the spot where the woman lay, was aroused, and proceeded at once to the scene. _

_ He hastily inspected the body where it lay and pronounced the woman dead. _

_ The police ambulance from the Bethnal-green station having arrived, the body was removed there. _

_ A further examination showed the horrible nature of the crime, for the lower part of the woman's body was found to have been horribly mutilated by three or four deep gashes. Any one of the wounds was sufficient to came death. _

_ After the body was removed to the mortuary of the parish in Old Montague-street, Whitechapel, steps were taken to secure, if possible, identification, but at first with little prospect of success. _

_ The clothing on the body was of a common description. It was discovered that the skirt of one petticoat and the band of another article bore the stencil stamp of Lambeth Workhouse. The only articles in the pockets were a comb and a piece of looking glass. The latter led the police to conclude that the murdered woman was an inhabitant of one of the numerous lodging-homes in the neighbourhood. _

_ As the news of the murder spread first one woman and then another come forward to view the body, and at length it was found that a woman answering the description of the deceased had lodged in a common lodging houses in Thrawl-street, Spitalfields. _

_ Women from that place were fetched, and they identified the deceased as "Polly" who had shared a room with three other women in the place on the usual terms of such houses - nightly payment of 4d. each, each woman having a separate bed. _

_ She had frequented the house for about three weeks past. When she presented herself for her lodging on Thursday night she was turned away because she had not the money. _

_ She was then the worse for liquor. _

_ A woman of the neighbourhood saw her later, she told the police - even as late as 2.30 on Friday morning - in Whitechapel-road, opposite the Church, and at the corner of Osborn-street, and at a quarter to four she was found within 600 yards of the spot murdered. _

_ At about half-past seven last evening a woman named Mary Anne Monk, at present an inmate of Lambeth Workhouse, was taken to the mortuary, and identified the body as that of Mary Ann Nicholls. _

_ She was a married woman, but had been living apart from her husband for some years. Her age was 36, and she had been an inmate of Lambeth Workhouse off and on for the past seven years. _

_ The matter is being investigated by  Inspector Stark  of Scotland-yard.” _

 

With a sigh, you set the newspaper back down on the table. You briefly thanked your valuable ability to read as it meant that you could stay informed about the gruesome murder while keeping your fellow illiterate workers aware as well. 

Despite how the evening of the 31st of August had began, it ended relatively well for you and Natasha. James and Scott were kind enough to walk you both back to the brothel, paying you for your time despite the events of the night having somewhat killed the mood. Even still, they insisted that they were unwilling to leave neither you or Natasha short for money. Now, you were sitting in a lounge area of the White Swan, relaying the article to Natasha and Wanda. 

Wanda Maximoff was another friend of yours and one of the younger workers in the brothel. Like Natasha, she wasn’t from England and originally resided in a far off country called Sokovia. After severe political unrest and the threat of oncoming war with neighbouring countries, she fled her home a few years ago with her twin brother, Pietro, and soon found herself working in the brothel to make ends meet. Pietro had even acquired a job as the brothel’s bartender, using his time to serve the customers and keep a watchful eye on his sister. They were both little spitfires, and more than happy to tell you to jog on if you disrespected them on the premises. Considering the establishment was one of the more expensive ones, there was a general ‘no cheeky bollocks’ policy, and the twins were more than happy to enforce it. The madame of the brothel, Pepper Potts, loved their fiery attitude, mostly because she agreed with its sentiment, and also because some customers paid good money for a woman with a dominant streak.

“I think I have met her before,” Wanda pondered when you finished reading the article. “She was a nice woman with far more friends than enemies, if she had any at all.”

“What a horrible way to go,” Natasha added with a frown. “Especially when she was only trying to earn a few quid to get a bed for the night.”

“It just makes me feel even more lucky to be living in here,” you said, glancing around the room. “And I’m also glad that we stick together when we go out at night.”

The Sokovian nodded in agreement. “We should definitely keep that up.”

Before you could continue the conversation, the door to the lounge opened, revealing Madame Potts on the other side. “Natasha, Y/N, you have visitors.”

“Customers?” you asked curiously.

“No. They are of the more _investigative_ variety.”

Natasha let out an audible groan. “Don’t tell me it’s the bloomin’ mutton shunters…”

“I’m afraid so. Realistically they should not even be on the premises, but they came in normal clothing to avoid affecting my business. They just wish to speak with you both about the murder of Mary Ann.”

“ _Swell_ ,” you muttered under your breath as the three of you were lead from the room, following Madame Potts to the bar where the apparent policemen were waiting. When you arrived, Wanda moved to take a seat at the bar while Pietro stood behind it, cleaning glasses ahead of the evening rush of clients. You looked at the table in the corner that was currently housing the policemen and recognised them from Bucks Row.

“Looks like Sergeant Handsome and Doctor Dreamy couldn’t get enough of us,” Natasha said to you under her breath. “I shall take the blonde.”

“No you will _not,_ ” you replied with a small snort. She wasn’t exactly wrong about them being quite attractive though. “They’re here to _question_ us, not to do business. Plus, you are telling me that you would sleep with a police man?”

“Money is money, and I am already fucking the good doctor friend of theirs. He is basically a police man without the ridiculous helmet.”

You chose not to reply. Instead, you merely looked at her in amusement and delighted in the fact that she could always put a smile on your face.

“Gentlemen,” Madame Potts announced, grabbing their attention as the three women reached the table. “These valuable ladies are Miss Romanoff and Miss Y/L/N, and they said they would be willing to answer some questions for you both. Try anything other than that, or threaten them in anyway, and I will see that you’re removed from the property. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the blonde replied calmly and removed his flat cap. As Madame Potts retreated and left the room, he gestured to the seats opposite them with a polite smile. “Please, sit.”

You and your companion followed his request, all the while eying the pair across from you. 

“I’m Sgt Rogers,” the blonde continued before nodding to his friend. “And this is Divisional Police Surgeon Dr Laufeyson. We wanted to ask you both some questions with regards the murder of Mary Ann Nichols.”

As you cautiously studied Dr Laufeyson, Natasha spoke up. “I doubt we’ll have any helpful information. We did not know the women, and we spent most of our night with company in the Frying Pan.”

“On business?”

The redhead smirked playfully. “ _Obviously_.”

“Why venture out of the brothel in the first place?” Dr Laufeyson asked with his hands clasped together on the table. “Is it not a safer option to remain here? Especially with all the attacks of late.”

“Sometimes business is slow,” you explained. “If we want to make money, we might have to go out and entice some men into coming to visit. Other times, we meet with regulars with whom we know we are safe.”

“I did not think such men existed, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your eyes narrowed, unafraid to meet his green ones in a stare that instantly brought you back to the lane where you first saw him. “You do not need to tell me that it’s exceedingly unsafe to be in my line of work. But not all men are monsters, Doctor, and not all men despise prostitutes.”

He watched you carefully, holding your gaze. “It would seem that the man who murdered Mary Ann Nichols certainly did.”

If there was one skill you had gathered from your work, it was learning to read people as best as you could. It was an important aspect of picking your customers — if any men made you feel uneasy, you didn’t go near them. The two men in front of you were relatively easy to figure out. Sgt Rogers held himself with a certain amount of pride. He didn’t strike you as overly confident, but he was certainly settled in a leadership role. He was good at taking charge and equally comfortable doing it. He lacked arrogance and appeared genuinely concerned with the attacks. He probably wouldn’t be here talking to you if he wasn’t. And Natasha had been right — with his chiselled jawline, penetrating baby blues, and neatly combed blonde hair he seemed like a poster boy for a handsome gentleman. 

Dr Laufeyson was a little harder to figure out. They were both reserved men, but where Sgt Rogers was determined, the former was quietly arrogant and proud. He regarded himself highly because he believed it to be true, but you had to agree that he was elegant in how he looked and how he carried himself. He was a doctor who was obviously intelligent, and oozed a charisma that his colleague did not. There was a certain… _mischief_ , about him. That was the perfect word to describe the glint in his eyes — mischievous. He was, much like the sergeant, attractive, but possessed a different kind of appeal. His features were sharp, his cheekbones high, and his thick black hair slicked back out of his eyes. He was certainly your type, bar the arrogant facade. 

“You think she was targeted specifically?” Natasha asked, bringing you out of your daydreaming.

Sgt Rogers answered. “For her profession, yes, but not her _personally_. Her estranged husband and friends could confirm that she had no enemies, and the recent rise of attacks of women of your profession leads us to believe that there may be a killer about; a killer who specifically has it in for you lot. We are here to ask you questions, but also to advise you both with regards your safety.”

This grim information did nothing to ease your woes. You had had a bad feeling about all the murders in the last few weeks. Not many people cared about sex workers because of who you were, but you were still human and you could feel fear and pain. You shouldn’t have been surprised that there was someone stalking about trying to murder as many women as he could. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he hadn’t been caught yet, given the lack of people who actually gave a shite, and the lack of manpower within the police. It was obvious that they were in a pickle purely because they came to _you_ for help.

Sgt Rogers removed a fountain pen and a small notebook from his inside coat pocket as he spoke. “Now, we wanted to ask if either of you saw Miss Nichols that night? You said that you visited the Frying Pan Pub — there are witnesses that claimed to see her leaving there at about 12.30 in the morning.”

“We did not get to the pub until after 2.30,” Natasha elaborated with a raised brow. “So we saw no sign of her.”

“Ah, I see. Did you drink heavily there?”

“Just a few gatters, so no.”

“Did you see anyone of note that stuck out to you?” Dr Laufeyson asked, directing his question to you. “Maybe he looked like he did not belong, or gave you a bad gut feeling?”

“There were the usual dippers and rampsmen about,” you said. “Who shouted some colourful words at us, but that is nothing we are not used to. We recognised most people about because we know the streets like the back of our hands.” You paused and thought back to the night, remembering how you had strolled through the stinking lanes with your friend. Only then did you remember a detail. “Well, there was that _one_ man, Natasha. You thought he seemed odd.”

She looked at you curiously. “Who?”

“Remember the lad with the tall hat in the lane? Right before we met James.”

“What lane was this?” the doctor inquired.

“Gunthorpe Street.”

Natasha suddenly recalled your story and nodded in agreement. “ _Oh!_ Yes, he _did_ seem a little bit odd… I would not have thought much of him otherwise. We thought he was out looking for women considering he was waiting at the archway.”

“I thought he was the wealthy sort at first,” you added. “But only really thought he was unusual when he approached us. I assumed he would ask us for our services, but he passed by when our friend appeared from ’round the corner and called our names.”

“He just tipped his hat,” Natasha said, mimicking his gesture. “And then went on his way.”

“What did he look like?” Dr Laufeyson pushed while the sergeant was quickly taking down notes. “Any details would be useful.”

You sighed as you recalled the appearance of the man you had met, though you could say little. “Eh… He was ’round 5’6, 5’7? A bit stocky, but had a fair complexion. He also had a moustache. It was dark that night, so I saw little of his appearance.”

“What of his clothes?”

“He had a dark overcoat and a dark top hat on his head.”

“That all sounds about right,” the redhead concurred. “I can agree with that description of him. I do not know why I thought him odd, because his appearance was quite normal. I had not seen him before though, might I add.”

“That is a possible lead at least,” Sgt Rogers said to Dr Laufeyson as he finished taking their statement. He quickly turned back to you. “You have been very helpful, ladies. Both here and on Bucks Row and we appreciate the assistance.”

“Just catch the bloody lurker quick,” your friend implored. “If giving you lot information to catch this devil means we will be safer out there, then we will do what we can to help.”

You noticed the dark-haired man sitting opposite you, thoughtfully tapping his slender fingers on the wooden table top. “That may not be the worst idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“It might not be a bad idea to employ the help of some local prostitutes, Sergeant. After all, they said they know these streets and the civilians well. They may see things that we miss while out soliciting.”

“First of all,” Sgt Rogers began, looking slightly miffed. “Soliciting is still _illegal_. Secondly, I do not think we are allowed to—”

“If it means catching this madman faster, then where is the harm? That and you had no qualms with coming here to question them in the first place! What do you say, ladies?”

“Assisting you lot with hunting down the man murdering our fellow workers?” Natasha broke out into a full tooth grin. “Sounds like fun. You in, Y/N?”

Working with the London Police? That wasn’t exactly something you foresaw in your future. Then again, you didn’t foresee fearing for your life either, and you refused to lie down and let more of your comrades die. The people of this city didn’t care, but you sure as hell did! “If it means he’s caught sooner rather than later, then yes.”

You and Natasha looked at the exasperated sergeant expectantly as he ran a hand over his face. “Ugh, _fine!_ So be it! But if this gets too dangerous for them, we will dismiss the arrangement. And you will not be out ‘ _hunting_ ’ him. For now, you will be offering information on suspects, locations, and possible victims, of which we hope there won’t be anymore.”

“We also want to get paid,” you added, clasping your hands together atop the table. “A _fair_ amount.”

“Done,” Dr Laufeyson announced without giving Sgt Rogers a chance. “You ladies have yourselves a deal.”

As you shook the man’s outstretched hand, Sgt Rogers tried to intervene. “Loki—”

“Lighten up, Rogers,” Natasha giggled as she gave the doctor’s hand. “You are no fun, are you?”

“I take my work seriously, Miss Romanoff—”

“And there will be _none_ of that last name or ‘ma’am’ bollocks. We are all on a first name basis now.”

“I believe I heard you refer to each other as Y/N and Natasha?” Dr Laufeyson asked and introduced himself and the sergeant once his question was confirmed. “I am Loki, and this is Steve.”

“Why did I even bring you here?” Steve mumbled, very much done with this exchange.

Loki shrugged in response, feigning innocence. “Because I am the fun one?”

Natasha smirked at the pair and got to her feet. “It was a pleasure doing business with you boys. If you even wish to engage in more _pleasurable_ business, do let us know. We would be happy to oblige.”

The wink she sent Steve had him clearing his throat as the three of you joined her in standing up. Loki was quick to prolong the banter. “I will inform you both if Steve desires some much needed practice.” 

“That’s enough!” the sergeant insisted, his jaw tense. “Where can we find you both if we need you?”

“Either here or the Frying Pan,” you answered, trying not to laugh. “We usually stick to one or the other considering we live here.”

“Right.” He coughed and placed his cap on his again. “Thank you again for your assistance, ladies.”

“You too, Stevie,” you chuckled while Natasha sent him a flirty wave. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Loki.”

“I shall try, Y/N. Natasha.” He tipped his hat to you with that familiar glint in his eye and left the establishment with Steve. 

Once they were gone, the Russian gave your shoulder a little nudge and scampered off towards the bar. “How about that, Y/N? We just got promoted to Assistant Detectives.”

“I’m quite eager about the pay rise,” you admitted and took a seat at one of the bar stools. “And about, you know, catching that nutcase…”

Wanda and Pietro stared at you both in disbelief, while the former spoke first. “What the hell did I just witness?”

“An adventurous business deal, dear sister,” Pietro explained, his accent thick. He cast a somewhat proud glance at you and nodded thoughtful, setting the clean glass back down on the counter. “Yes. Those two are jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire.”

“I do love a good manhunt,” you joked, all the while looking forward to helping out your peers. That, and you weren’t exactly disappointed with the thought of seeing Loki again. “This should be an eventful experience, girls.”


	3. Annie Chapman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While you and Natasha settle into your new detective roles, Wanda agrees to accompany you as you set off on another night of investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES HELLO I AM ALIVE. I took a much needed break over Christmas and then suffered with a bit of writers block, but I am back and happy to bring another chapter to anyone still reading along. As always, any feedback at all would be much appreciated! Hearing what you guys have to say means a lot. Thanks for anyone out there in the fanfiction abyss still reading my trash <3
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “Let Me In, Heathcliff” — Ruth Barrett, “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” — Nirvana, “Sir Galahad” — Jason Graves, “The Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: The Swan” — Camille Saint-Saëns

_8th September 1888, 5.00 am._

You were out with Natasha again that night.

Given your new ‘official’ duties as police accomplices, you found yourself wandering the darkened streets every second day or so. You and Natasha didn’t mind — at least it added some entertainment to your usually boring day. It was new and exciting and even though it surrounded a very morbid subject matter, you knew your presence was helping the police. Sometimes Wanda came along for the trip, and on this occasion she was more than happy to accompany you.

“I’m not sure if this is entirely legal with regards our arrangement,” Natasha mused as the three of you left the White Swan earlier that evening. “But I was never one for following police orders anyway.”

You had seen nothing of Loki in the past week, but Steve had become a regular at the brothel — only to call you both out for some assistance of course. It somewhat reminded you of being a kid again and your friend calling to your door to ask if you would come out and play. Except this time it was the sergeant asking that you help track down a murderer… No matter how hard Natasha tried, it seemed that he simply wouldn’t take the bait and become a customer. Seeing who could make him blush more became a nice ongoing joke though… Sometimes two other PCs were in Steve’s company. You recognised them as the two constables from Bucks Row. You soon found out that they were called James Barnes and Samuel Wilson. The former was an excessive flirt, and kept requesting that you call him ‘Bucky’ for some reason. His comrade was less of a flirt but was still kind at least. He did however like to poke fun at you as well as his comrades. It seemed that Barnes and Wilson were constantly at each others throats. Their dynamic became easy to recognise — both Barnes and Wilson fought for Steve’s attention which resulted in verbal spats that drove Steve up the wall and made you laugh until you were crying. 

Steve and James had called for you earlier that evening, and you used the chance to subtly enquire after Loki and his whereabouts.

“He’s the Divisional Police Surgeon,” the sergeant explained. “While we regularly patrol the streets, he is called in on specific occasions and special circumstances. He will be informed on any leads or developments that we find.”

“That’s a shame,” Natasha mused, giving your shoulder a nudge. “He was the funny one.”

While Steve rolled his eyes at this statement, James seemed amused. “Laufeyson _is_ a funny guy.”

“And he is also Y/N’s type,” Wanda teased you with a playful grin. “Cheeky, dark, and handsome.”

James chuckled and threw his arm around your shoulders. “Not as handsome as me though, right, doll?”

You looked him up and down with the most unamused expression you could muster. “Are you making a proposition, Constable? Soliciting is illegal, you know.”

“Well looking certainly isn’t illegal, now is it?”

“We’re on the job, Buck,” Steve insisted gently, not impressed. “We should leave the ladies to it.”

Now you were strolling down Whitechapel Road early in the morning. Only drunkards and your fellow workers were about as per usual. Obviously your group was getting its usual mixed looks of distain and curiosity. Unfortunately for those who inquired, you had to turn them down. Under Steve’s strict instructions, you were to dismiss half of your clientele in order to spend more time with your eyes peeled for any weirdos or suspicious looking men. He had agreed to fund the lost wages so you weren’t exactly complaining about the arrangement. If you did happen to stumble across someone that took your interest for all the wrong reasons, Steve asked you to note as much about him as you could before politely declining him. As long as they had a description to go off, they were happy. He also completely discouraged any sort of ‘vigilantism’, although you weren’t against the idea. Wanda and Nat also _loved_ the sound of such a thing.

“So if we find the man who killed Mary Ann,” Wanda began, linking her arm with yours. “Does that mean we get to kick his face in?”

“Most definitely yes,” you replied. “And then we can hand him over to Stevie with a lovely bloody face.”

“Oh the sergeant would just love that,” Natasha chuckled, grinning at the thoughts of revenge. “Although they might try to slap us with an assault charge.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. “They wouldn’t dare! Not when we handed them a murderer on a plate.”

Suddenly, Wanda veered off towards a portico, dragging out with her as she greeted another woman. “Annie, darling, are you alright?”

Leaning against one of the pillars within the portico stood a woman who looked worse for wear. Annie, as Wanda called her, seemed older than the three of you, and was short and stout in appearance. Blue eyes were hidden behind weary and hooded lids. On the right side of her face was a nasty bruise and there was no doubt in your mind that she was ill. She was dressed in mostly muted brown and black tones, which made a  red and white neckerchief tied around her neck stand out all the more. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” Annie wheezed, smiling faintly as she looked at the younger worker. “My, I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s only been a few weeks, don’t be so overdramatic.” Wanda smiled before gesturing to you and Natasha. “These are my friends, Y/N and Natasha. They work in the White Swan with me. Ladies, this is Annie. We used to share lodgings on Dorset Street before I came to the brothel.”

The pair of you greeted Annie, who seemed friendly despite the fact she was worse for wear. “Nice to meet you ladies, although I wish we could meet when I was in a better state.”

“What happened to you?” you asked her with genuine concern.

“Oh, this thing?” She pointed to the large bruise on her face. “If you think that’s bad, you should see the one on my chest. Just had a small disagreement with someone in the Britannia pub.”

Natasha spoke without hesitation.“Give us their name and we shall sort them out.”

“Do not worry yourself over it, ladies.” With a wheeze, Annie pushed herself upright and gritted her teeth in pain. “I refuse to spend another minute thinking on her. She is not worth it.”

“You should not be out here if you are unwell, Annie,” Wanda insisted, helping to keep her steady with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should go to the casual ward and get yourself looked at.”

“You are very pale,” you noted. “Wanda is right. You should be resting instead of wandering around out here.”

“Ah, I already went to the ward and picked up some medicine. It doesn’t feel like it has done much for me though… But I need money for my lodgings, so I’m trying to earn a few coins out here while I still can. I told the keeper to hold a bed for me and that I would be back shortly. It’s no use giving way, I must pull myself together and get some money or I shall have no lodgings.”

“How much do you need?” Wanda asked, reaching for her purse.

When Annie saw you and Natasha also going for your purses, she waved a hand at you dismissively. “I will not have any of you spending your hard earned money on an old bat like me.”

“We have to look out for each other,” Natasha hushed her. “No one else is going to do it.”

You nodded in agreement. “Especially with all the attacks of late.”

Between the you, Natasha, and Wanda, you happily handed the downtrodden woman enough money to secure her lodgings for the evening. She took it, but only when the latter gave her a very adamant look. With a sigh, she allowed the assistance, but looked almost ashamed for taking it.

“You lot are too good. You deserve better than being out here and working on these awful streets.”

“Don’t we all,” Wanda chuckled and took hold of her friend’s hand. “Take care, Annie. And don’t spend it all on rum, alright?”

The women promised she wouldn’t before she said her goodbyes and took her leave. You watched her wobble away, hoping that she would get better soon. You had originally offered to walk her back to her lodgings, but she refused and insisted that she would take no more of your time and get there herself. You didn’t like or agree with the idea of course, but there was simply no arguing with her.

Wanda was perturbed with the encounter but said little more about it, other than explaining how she had first met Annie some time ago. She briefly mentioned that she was a friendly, steady-going woman, but she had a fondness for rum and sometimes struggled with avoiding it.

After the encounter, you continued on your way for some time. Between chatting up men who showed interest and keeping a watchful eye on your friends, you did your best to spot any shady-looking characters, but found none. You even bumped into Scott while on your travels and paused to chat with him. He was sitting with a group of friends in the Ten Bells Pub and seemed happy to see you again. You were somewhat thankful that he didn’t ask after services from any of you — saying no to him felt similar to kicking a defenceless puppy.

At 5.30, the three of you regrouped with PC Barnes on the corner of Commercial Street and Whitechapel Road. Each night you had to meet with one of the PCs and inform them of any findings or interesting encounters. It also ensured them that nothing had happened to you while out and about. You weren’t waiting there long before he appeared.

“Evening, ladies,” PC Barnes greeted you upon his arrival. “Are you aware that soliciting is illegal? I am going to need you lot to move it.”

“Sod off, Barnes,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I am too tired to be dealing with you right now.”

He feigned offence and placed a hand on his chest as though his heart ached with your rash words. “What is it going to take for you to call me Bucky?”

“What the hell is a Bucky?” Wanda asked, causing you all to laugh.

“And who the hell are you?” he asked her with an award-winning smile. “You shouldn’t be out with them.”

“I do not take orders from mutton shunters, so I go wherever I please, Constable.”

Despite the banter, PC Barnes couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I think I have my work cut out for me with you lot. But I do need you to come with me to the station. Steve wants a full report of your evening.”

“Can we not do the in the morning?” you asked, already feeling exhaustion setting in.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not, doll. The Sergeant wants you all to make reports while the details are fresh in your heads. His orders — not mine!”

“He is lucky he is a good looking man who pays well,” Natasha grumbled as PC Barnes led you all towards the police station. “Otherwise I would end this charade right now.”

Barnes chuckled as he walked. “I shall let Stevie know that you think he is handsome.”

“Oh trust me, he is already well aware, Constable.”

Although you had very little issue with walking along the streets at night — you were well used to it and had certainly been through harder times — the company of a policeman wasn’t entirely disconcerting. If anything, it added an extra layer of protection to the group. You noticed that no one said a word to you as he lead you down to the nearby station. Instead, he chatted idly with you all, unfazed by the looks he was receiving due to his company. At one point, he told one particularly bothered man, who insisted on glaring at the with all his might, to ‘sod off’. You were beginning to think that you might like PC Barnes, even if he did do your head in.

Upon arrival at Commercial Street Police Station, you and your friends were eagerly swept into the back offices, passing by the policemen at the front desk who questioned PC Barnes about his company.

“They are with me, Happy,” he stated simply as he ushered you away from their curious eyes. “Is Sgt Rogers about?”

The policeman called Happy gestured behind him. “He’s in the back with Inspector Stark and Chief Inspector Strange.”

“Strange is back?”

“Indeed. He got back from his holidays today and came here as soon as he could.”

“What an unusual last name,” Wanda mused. “Do either of you know the inspectors?”

Natasha shook her head, as did you. “I can’t say that I have ever met them before.”

Though miffed by the news of the Chief Inspector’s arrival, PC Barnes tried to stay positive for your sakes. “Well you are about to now, ladies. Follow me.”

The further into the station you went, the easier it was to hear the arguing going on in one of the back rooms. Soon you arrived at an occupied office which belonged to an Inspector Anthony Edward Stark according to the label on the open door. You had never met the man before, but you had heard a few of your fellow workers say that he was quite the character — confident, flirtatious, charming, sarcastic. These were all qualities you didn’t exactly expect to find in an inspector, but you assumed he must be good at his leadership role if he was the head of the division.

PC Barnes stood in the open doorway, waiting for whatever conversation was happening to die down before announcing his arrival. Overwhelmed with curiosity, you peaked over his broad shoulders and saw two men locked in an intense conversation in front of a desk while Sgt Rogers stood off to the side with his arms folded across his chest.

“I do not care what Fury told you,” one man argued, looking quite perturbed with his colleague. “This is _my_ case and _I_ am in charge. Believe me when I say that we don’t need any assistance from you, Strange.”

The man you assumed to be Chief Inspector Strange appeared indifferent. He was clearly a proud man in the way he held himself and insisted on standing tall as he spoke. He listened intently, not at all bothered by the other man’s visible distaste in his presence. You didn’t recognise him at all, despite his unconventional facial hair and silver tinted locks. “How unfortunate when you must take direct orders from the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, and it is he who has given me the task of collating all the facts on the case. I would much rather be on my holiday than cleaning up your mess, Stark, but evidently you need me.”

Inspector Stark looked appalled by the choice of words. “ _Evidently?”_

“Well you have two dead dollymops and a murderer who is fond of disembowelment running about. Would you consider the situation under control?”

Despite the situation being laid out before him, Inspector Stark pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “We are _understaffed_. I am doing what I can with the men I have. Do you think I _like_ the thought of women getting disembowelled on my time?”

“I think you are unwilling to admit you need my help. How do you fit that head of yours into your helmet, I wonder?”

“Look, _Sherlock—!_ ”

“That is _enough_ ,” Steve cut in, stepping between the men before anything else kicked off. “We are on the same team here. There is no need for arguments!”

“It is very hard to control myself when his face is so punchable,” Inspector Stark grumbled. “He is smugness personified! With terrible facial hair!”

“We have company, Tony,” Steve replied, nodding to the door where James, Natasha, Wanda, and you stood waiting awkwardly.

Inspector Stark turned to the door with a tired expression, which quickly turned to confusion when he noticed you and your friends. “Barnes, I have no idea why you are standing in my office with expensive company, but I do know that you are one lady short of a party.”

“They are here on a different kind of business, Inspector,” Bucky elaborated and stepped inside. He motioned for you and your friends to enter, so you obeyed without argument. “Business of the investigative kind.”

Natasha stepped around him, obviously eager to speak for herself. “What Bocky means to say is—”

“ _Bucky._ ”

“Yes, yes, of course. What he means is that we are your new Assistant Detectives, Inspector.”

You noticed the deep furrow in Chief Inspector Strange’s brow as he gave Inspector Stark a very serious side-eye stare.

Stark’s brown eyes wandered over you curiously before he looked at your comrades in a similar manner. “I thought you said you recruited two ladies, Rogers?”

“I did,” Steve reassured him and pointed at Wanda. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, I recruited myself,” Wanda shrugged, unthreatened by neither their rank or the formal setting. “Do not worry yourselves about it.”

“Steve tends to worry a lot.” Inspector Stark offered you his hand. “Inspector Anthony Edward Stark, but feel free to call me Tony.”

You shook his hand, surprised to find that you sensed nothing bad or unsettling about this man. He seemed quite genuine somehow. “Y/N, nice to meet you, Sir.”

He grimaced at the title. “I insist that you call me Tony. ‘Sir’ makes me feel like an old man who needs to retire.”

You smiled slightly at his tone. “Tony it is then.”

He was certainly everything you would never expect in an Inspector, and you already liked him better for it. 

As he introduced himself to Natasha and Wanda and got their names in return, Chief Inspector Strange shook his head and cut across the conversation. “Why are these women claiming to be Assistant Detectives?”

“Because Sarge and Edgar Allen Poe thought we could use the extra woman power, and I agreed. I did not really have much time to argue against it, considering they made the decision before asking for my permission.”

“Edgar Allen Poe?” you muttered, looking at Bucky.

“Loki,” he explained. “Stark is fond of nicknames.”

“This is hardly orthodox,” the Chief Inspector continued, squinting his eyes in frustration. “And it is hardly Dr Laufeyson’s decision to make.”

Natasha let out a sigh. “Sorry, who are you? I did not catch your name when introductions were being made.”

Momentarily insulted by her brash tone, the older man turned to face them. “I am Chief Inspector Stephen Strange and I am in charge of this investigation by the order of Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,  Sir Nicholas Fury.”

You looked back at him in amusement, unimpressed by the excessive titles. It meant little to you and it wasn’t about to mean anything to you now. “Oh, _fancy._ ”

“Uh, I think you mean co-charge,” Tony pointed out. “We have co-ownership of this investigation. Somewhat like a married couple.”

“Not by Fury’s orders—”

“Yes, well, this is my division and these men have followed my orders for some time. Look, Strange, I will admit it — even if it might cause my ego to _burst_ at the seams — that we need more numbers to help with this investigation. It is why we have these women in our company. I will take your help if I must, but we need to work _together_ if we are to achieve anything.”

“He’s right, Chief Inspector,” Steve added. “The only way to tackle this is as a team. If we work as such, we can get it done before anymore lives are lost. Arguing is wasting what precious time we have.”

“I love when Steve agrees with me,” Tony said to you, looking somewhat bewildered. “He never usually does and he is exceedingly righteous, so I must be in the right thus time…”

“Fine then,” Strange huffed and held up his hands in defeat. “Have it your way, Stark, but know that I do not like the fact that _they_ will be joining this investigation. I will be having words with Dr Laufeyson about this.”

“We are involved whether you like it or not, Chief Inspector,” Natasha said coldly. “So your approval means very little to us.”

“A bit of respect would not go amiss though,” you added. “As Steve said, we are all on the same team.”

“And what a team we shall make,” Stark said with his arms outstretched. “As long as we catch this _bastard_ soon, I will be happy.” Without much thought, the inspector reached into his vest pocket, taking out a halfpenny, and then dropping it into a jar on his desk that was already half filled with coins. Steve looked somewhat pleased with the gesture.

Strange shook his head. “I shall still be having words with Laufeyson.”

“You mean Edgar Allen Poe?” you asked before looking to Tony for an explanation. 

He shrugged in reply. “He’s mopey and reads a lot, alright?”

Before anyone else could get a word in, Happy — the policeman who had been manning the front desk — came bursting in the door.

“Inspector,” he spluttered, out of breath and wide eyed. “A man just came in and claims there has been another murder!”

Whatever hopeful tone that had previously filled the room was extinguished with this unfortunate news. Your stomach tumbled and you looked to your two friends to see their equally horrified expressions.

“ _Where?_ ” Stark demanded, already pulling on his coat.

“29 Hanbury Street!”

Instantly the room sprung into action.

The men were all pulling on coats and sprinting out the door in no time. Stark was busy ordering them around while Strange got a head start and was already following Happy out the office door. You and your comrades looked on in stunned silence as everyone got to work. 

Before he left, Steve urged the three of you to follow him. “Look alive, ladies. We are needed at the scene.”

“Time to go,” you muttered and followed them out into the cold London streets. Just before exiting the building, you caught a quick glance at the man who sounded the alarm — he stood next to Happy, struggling to speak with an ashen face and tired eyes. God only knows what kind of scene he had stumbled upon that early in the morning.

Outside, Tony was quickly owning his role as Inspector. “Rogers, I want you to head to Spitalfields Market now. Wilson is stuck on fixed point duty there. Pick him up and head over to 29 Hanbury Street together. Make sure you check the side streets and alleys in case the suspect is nearby — he might still be close. The rest of you, come with Strange and I directly to the scene. Ladies, we might need you to identify the victim so be prepared.”

You momentarily thanked your past self for choosing to wear flats that evening, as you hadn’t exactly expected to be sprinting through the streets towards what would probably be a crowded murder scene. While the cool air burned your throat as you took swift gulps, your legs ached in protest as your body tried to overcome its exhaustion. Now, with it being shortly after 6.00 am, the sun rose in the distance, colouring the overcast sky in blues and pinks as London came to life again. It was quite a sight, one that would surely contrast with the horrors ahead.

At Hanbury Street, a curious crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Steve and Samuel were nowhere in sight, so Strange and Stark quickly got to forcing their way through the spectators. Bucky followed them next, then you, Natasha, and Wanda coming up the rear. With the policemen already making a path or you, it meant wading your way through the spectators was much more manageable. At least you could refrain from slapping people out of your way.

As you breached the crowd and finally got a good luck at the scene, your eyes rest on the sight before you. A body lay in the garden of number 29, partially against the wooden fencing. Strange and Stark stood over her while Bucky forced the rambunctious crowd back as best as he could with no back up. While you halted nervously in your tracks at the sight of a corpse, Wanda flew over to join the inspectors.

She took one look at the body before she covered her mouth with her hands and let out a desperate gasp. Upon seeing your friend in distress, you and Natasha were quickly at her side.

“It is Annie!” she proclaimed as you joined her. “Y/N, it is Annie! She’s dead!”

You met her shocked eyes with your own before you looked down at the victim. Sure enough, you recognised the red and white neckerchief, now matted with thick, fresh bloodstains. Annie Chapman’s throat had been savagely slit.

“You know her?” Strange asked, eyes darting between you.

“Wanda does,” Natasha explained solemnly, eyes fixed on the dead woman. “Her name is Annie Chapman.”

“We lived in the same lodging house on Dorset Street before I became a resident at the White Swan,” Wanda said, unable to look at her fallen friend any longer. You wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder as Stark asked her for the address of the lodging house. “Crossingham's Lodging House at 35 Dorset Street.”

“You have our condolences, ladies,” Strange said with the first ounce of genuine compassion you had seen from him all morning. “But your assistance is greatly appreciated.”

At that moment, Steve and Samuel came tumbling through the crowd. Seeing that more of his men had arrived, Stark jumped into action once more. “Rogers, I need you to help contain the crowd here — there are way too many people around at the moment. Wilson, I need you to run back to the station to get reinforcements — if this crowd keeps building, we shan’t be able to contain it. Barnes, take Y/N and go fetch Dr Laufeyson. I need him here now.”

“Why me?” you asked, unwilling to leave a visibly distressed Wanda behind.

As Steve and Samuel got to work, Tony turned to you with a sympathetic expression. “It is important that at least one of you ladies familiarises yourself with where Loki resides. You might need to fetch him yourself one day. Trust me, knowing where a doctor lives when you are hunting a murderer could save your life or someone else’s.” He threw a glance at your friends and lowered his voice. “Do not worry — they are in safe hands, I promise you, alright?”

With a sigh you nodded and turned to stand by the waiting Bucky’s side. “Lead the way, Barnes.”

 

 

 

_8th September 1888, 6.15 am._

The calming music of Camille Saint-Saëns rang out through Loki Laufeyson’s residence at 2 Spital Square in Whitechapel. Sleep eluded him yet again, and he found himself staring at his reflection in the steam-covered mirror in his bathroom. He wondered whether he could somehow hide the bags under his eyes after another sleepless night. He supposed that the thin cut on his cheekbone was more obvious than the drowsy eyes, but he most certainly couldn’t cover that detail. Dressed in merely his flannel drawers, he tried to tame his wet and messy hair so that he looked somewhat presentable for the day ahead. Even if any of his colleagues or patients did notice how tired he looked, he doubted any of them would press him too much. He was quite popular amongst his patients though, but he put that down to his ability to charm them with honeyed words and a flashy smile.

As long as no one asked too much he should be able to ignore their concerns.

As he splashed water on to his face in an attempt to wash away his groggy appearance, a loud knocking sounded from his front door. With a glance over his shoulder, he noted it to be too early for visitors.

_I am not due in work until 7… What in the bloody hell—?_

“Shit,” he said and quickly hurried to his bedroom to make himself decent and shut off the music box. As he reefed on a pair of trousers, the knocking persisted downstairs. 

He cursed again as the muffled voice of PC Barnes came through the door. “Loki? It’s me, Bucky! Open the bloody door!”

With a growl, Loki stumbled down the stairs with only one arm through his shirt sleeves. With his free arm he unlocked the door and swung it open. He had been expecting the constable, he was not prepared to see Miss Y/L/N also standing on his doorstep.

“Bad time?” PC Barnes teased, noting his state of undress.

“What do you think?” Loki snapped, pushing his hair off his face.

Upon pushing away the hair, he inadvertently revealed the fresh cut on his cheek, and PC Barnes was quick to frown. “What happened to you?”

“Some bludger tried to rob me,” he replied gruffly. “So I made sure all he got was a black eye.”

“You can’t seem to stay out of mischief, can you?” It seemed that Barnes was eager to annoy him further, even with his bruised face. “And you know better than to dress so suggestively in front of a lady.”

“It is nothing I have not seen before,” she assured him, obviously trying her best to look at his face rather than his bare chest and abdomen. “Have you forgotten my line of work?”

He wasn’t exactly sure why, but Loki felt a small sense of pride knowing that he had such an effect on her, especially considering she was no prude or stranger to nudity. He supposed that being ogled by a beautiful woman was something to be pleased about, and he put his reaction down to that observation alone.

“Is it another one?” Loki asked them, looking between the pair as he shrugged his shirt on and began to button it up.

James nodded. “Over on Hanbury Street. Stark sent us to pick you up and bring you over.

With a heavy sigh, the doctor opened his front door a little wider. “Come inside while I gather my things. I will only be a moment.”

With the constable and the street-walker now waiting anxiously in his hallway, Loki quickly ran up the stairs again and gathered his equipment in a rush, all while preparing himself for another grisly scene and body to investigate. Before he joined them downstairs, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror again, now fully dressed and ready to go. He looked rough, that was for sure. He hoped that Inspector Stark would not press him about his appearance and would simply let him do his job without being disturbed.

_I suppose at least I can do so in the company of a pretty woman,_ he thought and took a deep breath before joining said woman and the constable once more. _That is, at least, a small consolation._


	4. Milk or Sugar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki does his best to help investigate Annie Chapman's murder, and finally gets an opportunity to chat with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to churn this bad boy out in about four days after thoroughly researching the murder of Annie Chapman. Hope you guys enjoy it, because it was a nice slight change of pace from the other chapters. Thank you very much to those or commented, read, and left kudos. Seeing a notification in my inbox genuinely makes my day. Happy reading!
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “Everyone Loves Oranges” — Abel Korzeniowski, “Born Unto Trouble” — Bill Elm & Woody Jackson, “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, “All Gone (Alone)” — Gustavo Santaolalla

_8th September 1888, 6.30 am._

Despite his haggard appearance and fatigue, Loki made it to Hanbury Street in good time. Along the way, PC Barnes provided him with everything they knew so far, and Miss Y/L/N also informed him that the victim was known to them, but mostly to Miss Maximoff. He appreciated the update, even if it was a struggle to keep his eyes from drooping shut. 

_You are in for a long morning,_ he reminded himself as they arrived on the scene. _Pull yourself together before you draw unnecessary attention!_

His first thought was on the massive crowd that stood before him. It must have been several hundred or so strong, and he turned to PC Barnes in displeasure. “What do you expect me to do with all of these people here?”

“Shit,” James mumbled, placing his hands on his hips. “Stark sent Wilson to get more men to contain it.”

The doctor scoffed. “And they are clearly doing a _wonderful_ job of containing it.”

“What the hell do you expect? You know how understaffed we are.”

“Well then let’s make this quick.”

With PC Barnes clearing a way through the throng of agitated people, Loki emerged on to the crime scene with Y/N at his side. Sgt Rogers, PC Wilson, and two other constables were doing their best to control the bystanders, but there was only so much they could do when it continued to grow with each passing minute.

“I’m going to stay with Wanda,” Y/N said, gesturing to her friends, who were sittingagainst a fence, as far from the body as possible. “I’ll be just over there, not that you shall need me anyway… I would hardly be useful to you.”

“I would imagine that you would be far more useful comforting your friend right now,” he offered her with genuine sympathy. “If you are needed, we shall call upon you.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

He gave her a brief once-over when her back was turned before he joined the inspectors who stood around what he assumed was the victim. “Gentlemen.”

“Ah, Dr Laufeyson,” Inspector Stark greeted him. “Sorry to keep you from your beauty sleep.”

“Luckily I am blessed with an appealing appearance, so no harm done.” Only then did Loki notice Chief Inspector Strange standing beside him. “Oh, Strange, back from your holiday already?”

“It would seem that violent murders have a tendency to cut them short,” he replied, looking grim. “The Chief Commissioner has put me in charge of this case—”

“ _Co_ -charge,” Stark added swiftly, wagging a finger between the two of them. “Co-investigating, co-parenting, kinda like a marriage.”

Dr Laufeyson raised a brow and looked between the two of them in amusement. With a slight laugh, he spoke. “Right, of course. _Co-inspecting_. How innovative.”

Chief Inspector Strange narrowed his eyes at his comrade, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you well, Doctor? You look quite rough around the edges.”

“Now that you mention it,” Stark began. “You do look more rugged than usual. Not sleeping?”

“Somewhat,” Loki dismissed them, turning his attention back to the body. “I did not sleep well last night. But regardless of my exhaustion, I need to see to this body urgently, Inspector.” 

The older man snapped back into action. “Of course. We need you to work as quick as you can this morning, if you wouldn’t mind. The crowd is getting… _frisky_. Bad frisky.”

“Her name?”

“Annie Chapman, confirmed by Miss Maximoff over there.”

“When was she found?” he asked, squatting down so that he could begin a quick examination.

“A little before 6 am,” Chief Inspector Strange elaborated, looking at a small notepad. “By a man called John Davis. He came straight to the station to report it and we came here as quickly as we could.”

“I do not think your speed would have mattered. A quick glance is all I need to confirm that she is unfortunately beyond all medical help.”

With the little time he had before the body would need to be removed, Loki got to work and performed a quick examination. Annie’s left arm was placed across the left breast, while her legs were drawn up and skirts pushed above her waist, revealing a pair of red and white stockings. He turned his attention to her face, which was swollen and bruised, and turned on the right side. Between the front teeth protruded her swollen tongue, a clear sign to him that she may have died of asphyxiation. A bloodstained, white and red neckerchief that matched her stockings was tied around her slit throat. Upon closer inspection, he noted that it was dissevered deeply, with the incisions through the skin being jagged and reached right round the neck. This attack was as vicious as the one on Nichols, and, upon recalling the abdominal wounds inflicted on the previous victim, Dr Laufeyson quickly checked Chapman’s stomach and found a large gash inflicted by a knife. Though still connected to her body, her intensives were removed from her gut and placed on the ground over her right shoulder.

“Her throat is slit,” he said to the inspectors, without removing his eyes from the body. “But I do not think that is what killed her. Look at this.” He pointed to her protruding tongue. “My guess is that she died by asphyxiation. No sign of a struggle… She must have entered the yard alive. Look here.” He noted the fence above her head. “There are some small drops of blood on the fence, but not enough to imply that her throat was slit while she was alive. Rigor mortis has yet to set in, but the body was quite cold. This could be due to the cold weather, but it is hard to tell. The time of death may have been at about 4.30 am. Then again, I cannot be sure under the circumstances.” With a deep breath, he stood up, not wanting to let his eyes wander to her destroyed abdomen any longer. Even with his profession, he found it difficult to handle.

As Strange took notes of his findings, Stark pointed out some more details to Loki. “Her belongings are scattered around her and the yard too, so I don’t know how that goes with your theory of no struggle. We have yet to question the neighbours on whether they heard any disturbance.”

With a swift look over the items that were strewn about, Loki shook his head. “The ones by the bodies seem purposely placed to me.”

“Like they were arranged?”

“Possibly. It could have been a surprise attack as well. That would not give her a chance to fight back.”

“There was something else of note,” the Chief Inspector began before he ushered the men to a nearby water spigot. “So, let us say that you’ve just murdered a woman, slit her throat, and stuffed your hands into her intestines… Wouldn’t you urgently want to wash your hands of the blood? This spigot is perfectly clean and shows no signs of being used this morning by someone with bloody hands. Why not use it?”

“Why stick your hands in a woman’s intestines in the first place?” Inspector Stark replied. “The guy is probably bonkers beyond belief. If anything, this is just further proof of his audacity. He ran off, quite literally, red-handed.”

Strange nodded in agreement, though visibly put off by the notion. “I should also mention that we found a leather workman’s apron in the yard. It seemed out of place, so I thought it was a curious thing.”

Loki nodded slowly, glancing around the scene again. “The more information, the better, Chief Inspector. But I think I have done all I can here. Chapman needs to be taken to the Whitechapel Workhouse Infirmary before this crowd gets any bigger.”

“I shall send for an ambulance, Doctor. We should also have a word with Miss Maximoff — until we can contact Miss Chapman’s family, she is the closest thing we have to any information about her character or people who may want to hurt her.”

Stark nodded. “Noted. We shall see to it. How about you accompany myself and Wilson to the mortuary, Dr Laufeyson, while Strange sees to the women?”

Loki and Stephen both agreed, mostly just eager to have Annie moved out of the public eye. PC Wilson was sent to fetch an ambulance, and it wasn’t long before one was wheeled to the scene and the body was hidden away it a battered old coffin. The doctor threw a cautious glance at Y/N and her friends while Chief Inspector Strange explained to them what the next steps were. They appeared apprehensive, and Loki hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking his leave.

Upon arrival at Brick Lane, shortly before 7 am, Stark let out an audible groan. Loki looked at him curiously as they pulled up outside the infirmary. “What is the matter?”

“Look who is here to receive the body.”

Loki looked at the gates and immediately set eyes on Robert Mann, the same employee who had taken part in the unauthorised stripping and washing of Mary Ann Nichol’s body. “Oh, for _God sake_ …”

“I’m not having this,” Inspector Stark immediately declared and approached the man. He looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, while Mann appeared thoroughly put off by the stare-down. As Loki and Samuel approached the pair, Stark made his instructions clear. “Considering Dr Laufeyson was apparently misunderstood before, I am going to put this in black and white for you boys. This body is _not_ to be touched, other than being carefully placed in a room, until my colleague has completed a _full_ post-mortem examination. Is that _clear?_ ”

“As day, Inspector,” Mann replied with a gulp. “Crystal!”

“I would certainly hope so. I would hate it if you lot were to lose your jobs, or if more women were to die because of your mistakes.” With a grin he gave the worker a hard pat on the shoulder and let them carry the coffin into the mortuary.

“Damn, Stark,” Wilson sighed. “It’s not often that I see you let loose on someone.”

“I suppose it is a rare occurrence.”

“I would usually comment on your out-of-character reprimanding, Inspector,” Dr Laufeyson began, taking off his top hat so that he could wipe his brow. “But with lives clearly at stake, one cannot allow room for silly mistakes.”

“Right you are, Doctor.” He looked to PC Wilson and continued on. “Do me a favour, would you? I would rather you stayed here and act in my stead. You are in charge until we return.”

“ _We?”_ Dr Laufeyson repeated.

“Yes, _we_. Look, I need to go assist Strange in questioning the women. It shan’t be an easy experience for young Miss Maximoff, of that much I am certain, but they are a little more familiar with you than they are with us. Your presence might make it easier.”

“Have Rogers do it,” Loki suggested, not entirely eager with leaving the body and having to be in the women’s company when he looked a mess and needed sleep. “Or Barnes.”

“I already have Rogers and Barnes in charge of speaking with the residents on Hanbury Street. C’mon, Doc. We’re short on men enough as it is, and I want to make the process as easy as it can be for the girl. She’s basically still a kid who just saw her friend’s intestines strewn out on the ground.” While Loki was visibly hesitating, Stark tried to ease his worries. “All I need from you is two hours. Then you can come right back here and perform the post-mortem, that sound alright? Wilson will be here to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

He could hardly go against Stark’s wishes given that he was his superior, and Loki knew that. Despite the fact he would much rather do his job and be done with it, he also wasn’t overly eager with the idea of the inspectors blundering their way through an interview and hassling Miss Maximoff more than necessary. His mind briefly drifted to the thought of seeing Miss Y/L/N again, and he was immediately perturbed by the fluttering sensation that made its home in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he hated it or liked it.

_Give yourself a break, man. So she is an attractive woman — it is not like you have met any of them before. Get on with it and stop making a fuss._

“Fine,” he relented, putting his hat back on. “If you insist.”

“I insist quite strongly, so thank you,” Stark replied, before saying his goodbyes to PC Wilson and returning to Commercial Street Police Station. They quickly made their way to one of the more comfortable back offices where Strange was already speaking with Wanda. Natasha and Y/N sat by her side, offering support whenever the younger woman needed it. The four of them were sat around an interview table in the centre of the room, on which there were a number of cups filled with tea, a kettle, and a few plates of biscuits. As the two of them entered the room, Strange paused the interview to offer them a beverage, which they both accepted.

“I hope you are not giving the young lady too much hassle, Chief Inspector,” Stark teased, sipping from his cup as he took a seat next to him. “I have heard you are not the best with delicate issues.”

“I am doing just fine, thank you,” the man replied, somewhat miffed by the accusation.He turned his attention to Loki, who was shrugging off his coat and hat and hanging them by the door. “What is Dr Laufeyson doing here?”

“I thought the ladies would appreciate his familiar face while Miss Maximoff tells us all she can about Annie Chapman. You hardly expect them to stare at our ugly mugs all morning, do you?”

The women chuckled at that, and Natasha was the first to pass comment. “Give yourselves a bit more credit, boys. You are rather pleasing to the eye.”

While the group around him spoke, Loki kept his mouth shut and instead focused his attention on gathering a few cups, a plate of biscuits, and the tea pot from the table on to a tray. He brought it to the couch that sat to the left of the interview table where the group were gathered. When he set the tray on a nearby end table, he then carefully began laying its contents out before returning the tray to its previous place in the centre of the room.

“And you flatter us, Miss Romanoff,” Stark replied, always quick to give a flirtatious comment. “I request that you cut back on that before our heads explode.”

As Loki took a seat on the couch and began making himself a cup of tea, the chief inspector continued on with his complaints. “Should he not be attending to his duties at present?”

“I have been kind enough to give Inspector Stark two hours of my time,” Loki replied calmly, reaching for the plate of biscuits. “After which I will _attend to my duties_. Right now, I am to remain here and provide whatever help I can to our ever-complying ladies, here. Would any of you like some tea?”

He knew that Stark had brought him in to try make the atmosphere calmer and less professional. He had stressed before that they were on equal terms with these women, and while it may take Strange a moment to adjust around the arrangement, the women were a little more familiar with him. If his presence would bring them some ease and, in turn, progress the investigation, then so be it.

“I would actually,” Y/N answered, looking between him and Wanda. “It might help to wake me up a little.”

“Go and relax for a bit,” Wanda insisted, wiping the wet stains on her cheeks. She sniffled but pushed her friend on. “Natasha is here, so go sit down and have a cup.”

Y/N looked apprehensive at the thought of leaving her side even for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She gave her an appreciate smile before Y/N retreated to the couch and sat on the opposite end to Loki. 

He was quick to grab an empty cup and pour her some of the hot beverage from the kettle. “Milk? Sugar?”

“A little bit of milk, please.”

While the others continued on with their interview, Miss Maximoff providing whatever details and answering any questions about Annie that she could, Loki and Y/N were left to their own devices. When her tea was ready, he carefully handed her the cup and encouraged her to take as many biscuits that she wanted. The others paid them no mind, and the doctor had been prepared to sit in comfortable silence until his companion broke it.

“I’m sorry they made you come in here to humour us.” He met her gaze to see her staring into her tea. “I’m sure you would rather be doing your job in the mortuary.”

What was she apologising for? Did she really feel guilty over such a thing? “I may be of more use in the mortuary, but Stark thinks my presence would make this whole thing go a little smoother.”

“I thought he just wanted you here because you have a handsome face?” she replied, a teasing smile slowly stretching across her face.

_Oh? Did she call me handsome?_

He could feel his own lips mirroring her expression. “I do believe he referred to my face as familiar as opposed to handsome, but it is nice to know that you think that of me.”

Though she laughed at his observation, he noticed the small tint of red in her cheeks. “My apologies.”

“It is quite alright. I would hardly refuse a compliment, especially when it is true.”

She let out a laugh and shook her head. “Your arrogance knows no bounds, does it?”

“Not particularly. But to answer your question, Inspector Stark thought my being here might help conversation flow easier. After all, the three of you are a little more familiar with me than you are with our dear inspectors.”

Y/N sat there and nodded, pulling her legs up under herself as she got more comfortable. “I think you helped us relax a bit. I know Wanda seems better than she had been earlier.” She sighed. “She could have done without seeing what happened to Annie, but I guess it was unavoidable.”

Loki sipped on his tea before offering his thoughts. “It is grim business to be involved in, and certainly not for the faint of heart — though I would not peg any of you ladies as such — but it is always harder when it is someone you know lying on the pavement.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, momentarily confused.

“ _This_ ,” she pressed. She met his eyes now, gesturing around herself. “All of this. You have to witness such gruesome things on a daily basis, most of them up close too. You have to bear witness to how vicious and violent people can be. Does it not horrify you when you see what we do to each other?”

Loki was known, especially by his living patients and colleagues, for having a silver tongue, the ability to string together words, and to talk himself out of anything. It was a proficient skill that he had trained just as much as his medical knowledge. This was, however, not a question he was asked often. Sometimes, PCs Barnes or Wilson may jest and make their usual exclamations such as “that’s nasty! How can you look at that without throwing up?” and he usually dismissed them with a sarcastic quip about how he loves the sight of lacerated organs. But he knew those men, and he did not know much about Miss Y/L/N. Still, he knew by her tone and the events of the day that her question was a genuine one that she wanted to understand. Even though she worked a difficult job and probably saw her fair share of unpleasant sights in Whitechapel, she wanted to better understand how he did what he did. It was clear that her question came from a place of confusion, distress, and genuine interest, and this was a new interaction for him. He didn’t have the urge to reply with dismissive sarcasm or disinterest. Despite the fact he knew very little about this woman, he still wanted to talk to her because she wanted to listen.

Regardless of the anxiety that came with talking to someone about such a personal matter, he was somehow willing to explore it. He barely knew Y/N, and maybe _that_ was the reason why he did it.

“Of course it does.” He paused, carefully keeping his tone level and focusing on the still hot cup in his large hand. “In my experience, you eventually become somewhat desensitised to the horrors you witness. It never becomes wholly manageable, but only a little easier to deal with as more time passes. It is definitely something for only a few lucky people to do, but there are still days when I witness something so… nauseating that sleep eludes me or I turn to a strong whiskey to forget.”

“That certainly doesn’t sound easy,” she said after a few beats of silence between them, the other people in the room forgotten. “You must be very passionate about medicine to be in this line of work.”

“I suppose I am.”

“What made you want to become a doctor?”

He felt her eyes on him again, and turned to meet them, momentarily transfixed by their vibrant colour. He smirked. “Eager to learn more about me, are you?”

“I don’t exactly get the opportunity to ask doctors questions such as these,” she chuckled, opting to grab a biscuit and munch on it. “Usually I just experience a very swift visit with the doctors who check in on all the women that work at the brothel. We hardly get on the subject of how we ended up in our respective professions while they are making sure we’re not pregnant or ill.”

“A fair point,” he agreed and fiddled with his cravat in an attempt to loosen it. “If you must know, I have been fascinated with anatomy from a young age. That, and I liked the idea of helping people.”

“You do not exactly come across as the helpful sort.” When he raised a brow at her, she quickly elaborated. “Ah, that’s not exactly what I meant to say—”

Her mild awkwardness amused him. It was a vast change from the challenging woman he had previously encountered. Loki wouldn’t exactly be himself if he wasn’t eager to poke fun at her for it. “Well, colour me well and truly offended.”

“Dr Laufeyson—”

“It is Loki,” he cut her off, using the lull in conversation to take a biscuit for himself. “Just because you have offended me does not mean that you must start calling me by my title. As stated previously, we are on level playing terms.”

“Loki,” she began again, treading carefully. “What I meant to say was you don’t exactly express an obvious air of concern for others. You definitely seem intelligent and knowledgable and show a genuine interest in your craft, but caring was not a characteristic I would have chosen for you.”

He chuckled bitterly. “You are not the first person to say that to me, darling. And I am sure you shan’t be the last.”

“I wasn’t finished my point.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account.”

“Look, I meant what I said; you didn’t come across as someone overly concerned with others. But then again, you showed up here with the intention of making us, well, more specifically Wanda, feel at ease. You didn’t necessarily have to do that. And not that it’s a big deal, but it was nice of you to make me tea as well. I’ll admit that I didn’t expect even these little caring gestures from you, but I can see now how you would become a doctor so that you can help others.” She finished her explanation and then shrugged. “It makes a little more sense to me now.”

“You seem to be quite good at reading people.”

“Yes, well with a profession such as mine, you more of less have to learn in order to stay safe. It’s something I’ve had to practice over time, but I think I have made a fair go at your character.”

Before he could stop himself, he was suddenly replying with a joke. “And here I was thinking I was doing well to stay mysterious and aloof.”

“You can certainly do better, Loki,” Y/N joked back, and he felt glad that he hadn’t put her off. “Let’s just say that I am certainly right about you being a stuck up, arrogant toff.”

“ _Ouch_ … You wound me, my dear.”

“I aim to wound, Doctor. Speaking of...” She pointed to his cheek and winced a little. “Are you alright? I noticed earlier, but felt that Bucky annoyed you with enough questions about your wellbeing.”

His smile faded, and he suddenly recalled how he had acquired the cut on his cheek the night before. He turned his head and looked down at his hands for a moment so that the wound was no longer in her line of sight. He offered a small laugh before he answered. “I will be fine. Robbing is not exactly uncommon around here.”

“I know, but it’s hardly a pleasant experience either!”

“It is nothing I have not dealt with before,” he said, hoping she would simply drop it. “I can handle myself well enough.”

“If you say so.” If she was curious, she let it go for his sake. “At least I just wound you metaphorically.”

“Well, perhaps you would diverge from your wounding to instead humour me.”

“Humour you about what exactly?”

“By telling me how you come to your profession.” When she laughed at his suggestion, he frowned. “Well, it is only fair considering you asked about mine.”

“Yes well, I certainly didn’t chose my profession because I liked it,” she admitted, folding an arm cross her breast, a motion that did not go unnoticed by him. “I think we are both in very different positions.”

That much was clear to him as well. They were currently sitting on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to work. Loki was no fool — he knew well that most women turned to prostitution out of desperation as apposed to personal preferences these days. Whitechapel wasn’t an area known for its flourishing opportunities. But he couldn’t help but wonder about Y/N and how she came to be in this position. Much like her friends, she was relatively young, younger than Annie Chapman had been anyway. At the same time, he supposed they were all simply women who found themselves stuck in a situation that was less than ideal. It was obvious to him that the reason she found companionship with Natasha and Wanda was their mutual understanding. “I preferred to not make any assumptions.”

“I’m sure your assumptions would be mostly correct.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking his next question, though he felt like the answer was clear already. “Do you have any family that could help?”

She stiffly shook her head before nodding to the two other women. “They would be the only family I have. My parents died quite suddenly, so I didn’t have much choice.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered weakly, well aware that his words would do little. “Were they ill?”

“Tuberculoses.” Her eyes glazed over as if she was no longer in the room or thinking much about their conversation. “It’s one hell of a thing.”

_A sensitive subject, it would seem. Perhaps it would be best if I didn’t push that further..._

“What about you?” she asked after taking a swift gulp of tea, eager to forget her own memories. “Any family or other Laufeysons floating about?”

“No,” he answered quickly before he could stop himself. She was looking at him quizzically, but he merely repeated himself. “No one of note. It’s just me.”

“At least we have _something_ in common,” she offered, but there was a clear note of sympathy in her voice, one that caused him to look down at his cup again. “Although it’s not a great thing to share.”

“I suppose not, although I am quite content with my own company.”

“All the time?” 

“Well with company such as me, how could I not be content?”

She chuckled at that, and he was glad that she found his arrogance amusing rather than annoying or distasteful. “I wish I could feel that way about being alone sometimes.”

“You unfortunately have to learn to manage when it is unavoidable, Y/N.”

“As long as you’re not forcibly excluding yourself, of course.”

He paused, irked by the insinuation, mostly because he knew it to be true in his own circumstances. While he was teased by his colleagues for being a loner, it wasn’t a lie. Bar his patients and his colleagues with whom he worked, he rarely socialised with anyone else. It wasn’t entirely self inflicted, but he had resided himself to that way of life, and he was happy with it. Wasn’t he?

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, each of them finishing their tea and once again realising the dire situation with which they were so tightly bound. Even when lighthearted conversations could be had, it seemed that the murders and their horror were inescapable. They were both in the thick of it, but Loki couldn’t help but wonder how Y/N felt about it. Yes, they were both hunting the same monster, but said devil was hunting only one of them.

After a while, she spoke again, exhaustion evident in her voice. “My mother used to say that life could be a right load of shite sometimes.”

“Elegant,” he noted. “But also true. It can be tough.”

“The sooner I realised that fact, the better off I was.”

The conversation drifted after that. It never returned to the former depth with which it had begun, but Dr Laufeyson was somewhat relieved to instead speak of things that held little meaning. He always hated small talk, but on this occasion it was welcomed. It did him until the interview had ended and the women were escorted back to the White Swan by Chief Inspector Strange. Inspector Stark thanked Loki for his cooperation once again before the pair of them made their way back to the mortuary. 

It was here that they made several unpleasant discoveries.

The first of which was that in spite of PC Wilson’s presence, two nurses had stripped and washed down Annie Chapman’s body after being instructed to do so by the Clerk of the Workhouse Guardians. Dr Laufeyson was so angry that he very nearly flung the clerk on to the street. He had never seen Stark as exasperated before, and his superior’s similar reaction helped to validate his own anger. After a lot of shouting, damning, and cursing, Dr Laufeyson was allowed to carry out his post-mortem. Stark sat in the room with him, grumbling about the idiocy of the mortuary’s employees.

“It is as if they are trying to tamper with the investigation,” he ranted, massaging his temples. “I swear, Loki, my brain is _this_ close to exploding.”

“Shall I perform your post-mortem as well then?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. I just can’t believe they would do this _again_ …”

Stark kept talking, but Loki zoned out as he turned his attention from Anne’s neck wounds to the large gash on her abdomen. He opened her up to survey the damage inside. What lay waiting (or rather, _not_ waiting) for him both baffled and startled him.

He felt the blood drain from his face at the sight.

Stark was still rambling, but he couldn’t her any of it.

“Stark?”

“… if they’ve tampered with the evidence—”

“Stark?”

“—I swear, Strange won’t let me hear the end of this—”

“ _Stark?”_

“—I shall tell that wanker that the only one who can boss me around is _me_ —”

Loki couldn’t help but run out of patience. “For God sake, _Stark!”_

The inspector threw his hands in the air and spun around to face him. “ _What?”_

“Her womb is gone!”

Silence engulfed the room.

Stark stood frozen on the spot, his face twisted into an expression of dread and confusion. “Her… _womb?”_

“Is _gone_ ,” Loki finished, turning his attention back down to the disfigured body. “He cut it out.”

In fairness to Stark, he did come to the doctor’s side so that he could peer at the damage himself. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning over the wound. “What the hell are we dealing with?”

“A man with anatomical knowledge,” Dr Laufeyson pondered, unable to pull his gaze away from the mess of mangled flesh and muscle on the table. “A doctor perhaps?”

As he spoke, Inspector Stark’s voice held every ounce of hatred that the man possessed. “This isn’t a man, Doctor. He is beyond that. Whatever we are dealing with, it is more like a _devil_.”

Despite wanting to remain hopeful to some extent, when Loki studied the work done by the murderer, he couldn’t help but feel the dread that Stark was expressing. The brutality with which this woman’s life was stolen was now as clear as day. This was way out of their comfort zone. _Far_ beyond it.

This was otherworldly.

This was evil.

And they were not ready for it.


	5. Dear Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader and co attend the funeral of Annie Chapman, and Inspector Stark receives an unusual missive written in red ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back in action with more from our Victorian Avengers! More historical facts and some perspective swapping between Loki and the reader. I promise they will have more interactions in the future as well ;) Thank you to you guys for reading as always! Hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “For Those We Loved” — Austin Wintory, “Graveyard Parade - Acoustic Version” — Matthew And The Atlas, “Abide with Me” — 101 Strings Orchestra

_8th September 1888, 9.30 am._

Dr Laufeyson’s post-mortem report on Annie Chapman read as follows:

_“The abdomen had been entirely laid open: the intestines, severed from their mesenteric attachments, had been lifted out of the body and placed on the shoulder of the corpse; whilst from the pelvis, the uterus and its appendages with the upper portion of the vagina and the posterior two thirds of the bladder, had been entirely removed. No trace of these parts could be found and the incisions were cleanly cut, avoiding the rectum, and dividing the vagina low enough to avoid injury to the cervix uteri. Obviously the work was that of an expert — of one, at least, who had such knowledge of anatomical or pathological examinations as to be enabled to secure the pelvic organs with one sweep of the knife, which must therefore have at least 5 or 6 inches in length, probably more. The appearance of the cuts confirmed me in the opinion that the instrument, like the one which divided the neck, had been of a very sharp character. The mode in which the knife had been used seemed to indicate great anatomical knowledge.”_

The more he delved into the evidence and pieced together what may have possibly happened to her, Loki found it difficult to continue. Yes, his profession involved looking at the grim and the horrifying, but this killer was pushing the boundaries. Was he perhaps a doctor? It seemed plausible but brought him no sense of comfort.

The remainder of the day gave him no opportunity to rest — between following up with Stark and Strange, and dealing with his own private appointments, sleep was not readily doable until evening had descended upon London. He stood by the window in his home that overlooked the streets below, a glass of gin in hand, and wondered whether he was to be woken again that night by rampant knocking at his door. Would the Leather Apron — the killer’s new name given today by the media — strike the working women of Whitechapel again? His mind briefly wandered to Y/N and her friends before he shook the thought away again. Perhaps, given the day they themselves had experienced, they would be allowed a night of rest instead of working. Then again, he knew little of their practices or the attitude of Madame Potts. He hoped, for their sake and especially given Miss Maximoff’s association with Miss Chapman, that she was an understanding boss. 

Between recalling the women with whom he was newly associated, his thoughts also drifted to Annie Chapman. What had _she_ thought of, he wondered, as the life was squeezed out of her? Her parents? Her sisters? Her dead husband and estranged children? From the information provided by Miss Maximoff, the police gathered her life had not been an easy one. Despite marrying a gentleman’s coachman, John Chapman, and moving to a cottage on his employer’s Berkshire estate, the two had succumbed to alcoholism after many of their children grew sick and died. It was a constant up and down period of sobriety before the addiction won yet again. There were, as a result, numerous arrests over public drunkenness. Wanda recalled being told that Annie kept photographs of her children on the mantelpiece. A weekly allowance of ten shillings was supplied by her husband, and she also earned money by selling crochet-work and flowers. When the drink killed John and the allowance stopped, only then had she turned to prostitution and begging. Considered a drunkard and forced to reside in lodging houses, nothing else could be done. After delving further into his post-mortem, it was no surprise to see that she was already  aggressively  sick. She was far advanced in disease of the lungs and membranes of the brain, and her stomach contained little food, nor were there signs she had consumed any alcohol. It was clear that she was not well fed. If the killer had not gotten to her first, he was sure she would have not lasted much longer…

Even still, this did nothing to ease his mind. The more he thought of what happened, the more unsettled he became. Only when his head began to pound and his hand shook did he down the contents of his glass and try to go to sleep. He shrugged off his clothing and wrapped himself in the blankets as tight as he could. Despite forcefully shoving his head into the pillow, his mind would not relent. Albert Cadosch, a young carpenter living at 27 Hanbury Street, had told police that he heard voices over the fence that separated his yard from that of 29. He had been visiting his outhouse when he heard what he thought sounded like a woman’s voice saying ‘No!’, followed by the thud of something falling against the fence. He chose not to investigate it further.

_Was he the only one to hear your screams? And yet, no one came to your aid? No one thought to help as you died?_

The headache returned, as well as the stinging in his cheek, and Loki gritted his teeth. 

He suppressed the urge to fix himself another gin.

 

 

 

_14th September 1888, 9.00 am._

In the days that followed the murder of Annie Chapman, London was enthralled with who the Leather Apron could be. You watched the play unfold closely, being sure to never leave the brothel unless accompanied by your friends or the police themselves. Wanda had, after some days of mourning, improved. The three of you had been glued to news reports when you were informed that police had arrested a man called John Pizer, the owner of the leather apron found in the yard of 29 Hanbury Street. Believed to be _the_ Leather Apron, you had hoped this meant the end of the Whitechapel murders. It was only when Sgt Rogers informed you that Mr Pizer had credible alibis for both murders did you give up hope. With his release came the revelation that there were no other obvious leads.

On the same day as John Pizer’s arrest, Sgt Rogers was also kind enough to inform you that a local business man, Mr George Lusk, together with several of his comrades, founded the Mile End Vigilance Committee. Their hope was to assist the police with their endeavours to catch the murderer. How that was going to play out, you had no clue, but more help was always welcome. If it meant that you and your friends could safely traverse the streets without fear of being strangled then you would take what you could get.

That Friday morning, you found yourself in the Manor Park Cemetery on Sebert Road with Natasha and Wanda. You were there to attend the mostly secret funeral of Annie Chapman. It was a small affair, with her father, her sisters, and other family members in attendance. Wanda had bumped into her father while visiting Commercial Street Police Station the day before and he was kind enough to extend the invitation after hearing how she had assisted in the investigation. No one but the undertaker, the police, and her family knew of the event.

It was a quiet affair — kept secret to avoid any hysterical crowds — with a hearse removing her body from the mortuary and stealthily transporting it across London to the cemetery. Now, you stood beside public grave 78, a communal grave in which Annie was being laid to rest. The guests had met the body at the grave instead of following the hearse in coaches. This was another attempt to keep the crowds at bay, and it thankfully managed to do exactly that. Her black-covered elm coffin bore the words _‘Annie Chapman, died Sept. 8, 1888, aged 48 years’_. Inspector Stark also offered to attend and represent the Metropolitan Police. You had to admit that it was nice having another familiar face there, even if the relatively warm morning was already marked with a somber atmosphere. 

It was when you were standing by the graveside that you noticed another familiar face at the very back of the small crowd. You were certainly surprised (and maybe a little excited) to see Dr Loki Laufeyson also attending the funeral, especially considering he hadn’t gone with you, Inspector Stark, and your friends. Had he come of his own accord? You supposed he could have gotten the information from any of the other policemen, so it wasn’t all _that_ surprising. And yet you were still curious about what would bring him here.

After the burial, you stuck around with your friends and Inspector Stark, watching Dr Laufeyson out of the corner of your eye as you paid your respects to Annie’s family. He didn’t speak to anyone, instead choosing to stand over her grave in thoughtful silence.

You nudged Tony, grabbing his attention, and nodded to the doctor. “Did you know Loki was going to attend today?”

Following your directions, he seemed taken aback and shook his head. “That I did not… Let’s go say hello, ladies.”

You followed Stark over to the graveside, the noise of your crunching footsteps on the dry grass grabbing Loki’s attention. He looked up and greeted you all with a nod.

Inspector Stark gave him a friendly clap on the back. “Morning, Doc.”

“Stark. Ladies. I hope you’re all well on a day such as this.”

“We’re getting by,” Natasha replied, summarising the unanimous feeling between you and your friends. “As well as any of us can.”

Loki seemed happy with that. “Good, good. And you, Stark? Any leads with the case? What of that man you arrested yesterday? Edward McKenna?”

“We released him last night. He had a solid alibi that checked out.”

The doctor frowned. “Why do I feel like every lead of late is a dead one?”

“Probably because they are all, in fact, _dead_ …” Tony shook his head with a pout before briskly changing the subject. “But forget about that mess for the moment — I did not know you were going to be in attendance here this morning, Doctor.”

“Yes, well, I thought I should come to pay my respects, Inspector,” Loki replied, looking at his superior from underneath the brim of his top hat. “It felt necessary.”

“Considering you do get up close and personal with the victims after death, that does not surprise me. I came with our trusted associates, as you can see. Mr Smith invited them after meeting Miss Maximoff at the station.”

“I see. You have my condolences, Wanda. How are you faring?”

“Better,” she admitted and wrapped her arms around herself. “Having supportive friends by my side makes it easier.”

You reached out to wrap your own arm around her back, offering a comforting squeeze that the Sokovian thanked you for. Loki smiled at her words. “I am sure. That is the best anyone could ask for.”

“I would feel slightly better if the bastard was caught.” She shrugged, her words not intending to seem accusatory or rude. “Not that I am trying to appear ungrateful.”

“Not at all,” Tony assured her. “I think we would all feel more at ease if we caught him. We _will_ catch him eventually, I promise. Especially with such helpful sort on our side.”

“I heard of the formation of the Mile End Vigilance Committee too,” Loki said, visibly intrigued. “Hopefully they prove to be useful.”

“We will take all the help we can get. We would rather nothing ill befell any other women, like poor Miss Chapman.” He looked at her grave before looking back at you and your friends. “I know Mr Smith already thanked you for this, but we did appreciate having you on hand to tell us about her. Even just hearing about her life was helpful.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “Us lot already get shunted around the place and the last thing I wanted was for people to disrespect her after her death. I would much rather forget the memory of finding her in that yard and instead remember how she once made me a shawl because my older one was stolen. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

“That could have been any of us,” Natasha added. “We certainly know the feeling of, well, desperation, I guess. We are lucky that we live in the brothel instead of hopping between lodging houses or sleeping on the streets.”

“How did you move from the lodging house to the Black Swan, Wanda?” Loki asked inquisitively. “I would imagine it was quite difficult.”

“It was pure luck,” the Sokovian explained. “When I arrived here with my brother, we had little money and only the clothes on our backs. He did hard labour, and I did my part as well. One evening, Natasha approached me with Y/N by her side — she had heard my accent while I was mouthing off to some blighter who thought he could shove me about. They helped me fight him off and brought me back to the Black Swan. They said Madame Potts had a fondness for ladies with zealous attitudes. My brother came along too, and now he works as the bar man there. So, I have these two ladies to thank for whatever may have happened to us otherwise.”

“Why am I not surprised that you three would take on some drunk oaf together?” Loki said while Tony seemed silently satisfied with such a tale. “Although I suppose you all have similar temperaments.”

“We certainly do,” you replied. “But she also simply needed help, and we were definitely going to do what we could to get rid of that twat.”

Natasha cracked a smile. “We do not take shite from stupid people, especially not stupid, drunken men.”

“They go running when they see her,” you confirmed proudly. “I have seen it happen.”

The inspector’s expression now appeared genuinely impressed. “I don’t doubt that at all. You sound like a woman with a lot of experience in that area.”

Loki jumped in and added. “I would say that it seems like personal experience too.”

“Let’s just say that I have dealt with my fair share of moronic men.”

You knew all about Natasha’s past, but it was something that had only been revealed after a significant bond and trust was formed. It was late one evening when she told you about her former husband, Henry, whom she loved dearly once upon a time. Not unlike Annie, the Russian had found herself in a middle class family after moving to England. A whirlwind romance had led to a quick marriage, and the happy couple seemed to be a perfect match. It was only when they had tried to start a family did issues arise. Problems with conception led to the revelation of her inability to bear children, and Henry, after years of arguments, decided that he had wed a woman who couldn’t perform what he considered to be her basic duty. So he sold their residence, took whatever money Natasha had saved, and fled. She hadn’t seen him since, but she vehemently hated his tainted memory.

“If anything,” Tony continued, pulling you out of your daydream. “This is just further proof that you lot are perfect for this job. I do hate to end this lovely meeting, but I must be getting back to the station. Would you care to accompany us, Doctor? I offered our friends here a lift, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, Inspector, but I have left my bicycle outside and will have to pass. I can find my own way home.”

Tony shrugged and pulled out a smoking pipe from his coat pocket. “Suit yourself, Poe. I shall escort these ladies home on my own, then.” Once the Doctor had given you all a courteous goodbye and taken his leave, the inspector spoke again. “He is a curious man, that one.”

You stuck closely by your friends as you began to walk in the opposite direction to Loki, heading back to the horse and carriage in which you had arrived. Wanda seemed to find Tony’s comments amusing. “He seems nice enough to me.”

“I never said he wasn’t _nice_ , but he is a weird sort, if you catch my drift.”

“Aren’t we all?” you challenged. “We are not exactly the most put together group.”

Inspector Stark chuckled. “I suppose I never thought a group of glamorous dollymops such as yourselves would be assisting me on a case, that’s for sure.”

“It wasn’t something I had seen in our future either,” Natasha added, wrapping her shawl tighter around shoulders. “The police haven’t exactly been very helpful or… _understanding_ of our way of life in the past.”

“I have been meaning to ask you about that actually,” you said, looking at Tony curiously. “Soliciting is still illegal in London, and we get shunted around all the time by locals instead of actual constables. What exactly made you lot stop enforcing such strict rules? Sex workers are no longer getting arrest or charged, but instead we’re told to move on with our business. Most of the time, you just turn a blind eye.”

Tony listened carefully before he answered. “You can thank Sir Nicholas Fury for that one. He’s the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police and made the very wise decision to say that it isn’t our duty to investigate or close down brothels.”

“But when the Vigilance Associations closed down brothels, all they did was move them to somewhere they considered more respectable!”

“And he agrees with you on that!” He took another puff of his pipe. “He believes that containment is a better way to manage soliciting, as opposed to repression, you know? It is also a lot easier to manage when it is confined to one particular area too.”

“Let’s not forget that we still receive business from the public,” Wanda added. “And that still isn’t greatly affected by the fact soliciting is considered illegal.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “As long as there’s a demand, it shall always be around.”

“Right you are, Natasha,” Tony replied. “And it is also quite hard to prove that a woman has been soliciting, so charging individual prostitutes is nearly impossible, lest we forget about the case of Miss Elizabeth Cass last year. Her unjust arrest and subsequent overturning resulted in the entirety of London laughing at our incompetence, and rightly so! It was after that case that Fury prohibited us from arresting any street walkers unless a direct complaint had been made by the public. Evidence was also a requirement, obviously.”

“You lot really did make a balls of that one,” Natasha chuckled. “I do recall getting a good laugh out of it.”

Tony shook his head, but grinned slightly despite his embarrassment. “I am glad that it brought you some entertainment. Now, if we could politely withhold any verbal abuse until we return to the station, that would be much appreciated.”

“Not a chance!”

“I’m honestly surprised that you lot are even willing to work with us,” you said as you arrived at the horse and carriage. “Considering we are still technically doing something illegal.”

“Well,” Tony began, shrugging dismissively as he opened the carriage door for you. “You haven’t solicited on any of the occasions that we employed your help and, as they say, everyone needs to put food on the table.”

You looked at the older man with a small smile, aware that while he was telling the truth about your lack of any offence while working under their terms, he was also expressiing an understanding for the situation in which you and your friends found yourselves. There was hardly much choice for you when it was either prostitution or poverty. “Right you are, Tony.”

He laughed, flashing you a brilliantly arrogant smile of which you were beginning to grow genuinely fond. “As always, Y/N. Now, after you.” 

 

 

 

_27th September 1888, 10.15 am._

Clint Barton sat at his desk in the Central News Agency in London. He was scanning through a list of missives that were left for him to look over, all while drinking his usual morning cup of tea. He scanned the envelopes until one in particular caught his attention. It was written in red ink and, quite humourously, addressed to ‘The Boss, Central News Office, London City’. He raised a brow and took it from the pile to read first. He tore open the envelope and scanned through its contents…

_Hmm… Leather Apron? Ah! Another Whitechapel Murderer claim, it would seem… Yada yada… red ink … Jack the Ripper? How creative…_

He wasn’t too fussed about it really — it definitely wasn’t the first time they had received supposed information on the Whitechapel murders. Most of that information ended up being completely falsified, and he wasn’t much bothered by this letter either. He set it aside and began to read through all the other post that was delivered to him instead.

It was two days later on the morning of the 29th of September when he passed the letter on to the Metropolitan Police at Commercial Street Station. It was given into the hand of Inspector Stark, who sat at his desk and unfolded to missive to read:

 

_ **"Dear Boss,** _

_ I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. _

_ How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. _

_ My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. _

_ Good Luck. _

_ Yours truly _

_ **Jack the Ripper** _

_ Dont mind me giving the trade name. Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha" _

 

Upon finishing it, Tony was unsure. The likelihood that the literal killer would write a letter seemed unrealistic, and yet there was a small part of him that was perturbed with its arrival. Despite the fact it killed him to do so, he made Chief Inspector Strange aware of its arrival.

“Surely it is a hoax,” his superior said, eying the letter with a grim expression sometime later. “I mean, _come on_ , red ink? That is _embarrassingly_ excessive.”

“I think that cutting out wombs is also pretty excessive.”

“That may be so, but we have no way to confirm its authenticity.”

“True,” Stark sighed, therapeutically rubbing his temples. “Still, this man does at least sound psychotic. I mean, “you will soon hear of me with my funny little games”? I knew he was a devil before, but he seems to be getting a great deal of entertainment from this whole affair.”

“If the author of this letter is indeed our murderer,” Strange reminded him with a frown. “We have no way of knowing for certain. He hasn’t said anything to imply that he has detailed knowledge of the case, so it is not much to go off.”

“He has definitely adopted a more creative nickname anyway.”

“Creative and dramatic, I suppose.”

“He sounds like a bloody theatre kid…”

“My advice is that, right now, we put this letter to the side and return to it upon more details arising. We cannot do anything with it yet.”

Stark hung his head, sitting dejectedly behind his desk. “I feel like we are continuously doing just that — _nothing!_ The press continue to slate us for making no progress at all and every lead is a dead end. There have been no murders since that of Miss Chapman, but we have been about as productive as our murderer! We cannot sit idly by waiting for another woman to wind up dead.”

“What do you suggest we do then, Inspector?” Strange argued, clearly perturbed by the truth within his words. “We cannot make progress when there is no evidence with which to work.”

Growing impatient, Stark grabbed the letter in his fist and shook it in front of Strange’s face. “But what about _this?_ What if this can provide some answers?”

Despite Stark’s emotional outburst, Strange remained aloof and cold, his voice eerily deep and calm as he shut him down. “As desperately as you wish for this letter to give us any answers, we cannot prove that it is genuine. Right now, all we can do is believe it to be a hoax and nothing more — nothing about it is to be made public either. I advise you to focus your attention on other leads, Inspector. Perhaps you can have a word with your dollymops.”

Without waiting for a response, the Chief Inspector stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him. Stark released a heavy sigh and leaned against his desk, thinking through his options briefly before he resolutely exited the room. 

It didn’t take him long to find Sergeant Rogers. 

“Inspector?” the blonde greeted him, standing to attention. 

Stark greeted him with a nod. “Steve, head over to the White Swan tonight. I need our girls out and on the job.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It is about time that we found ourselves a lead, and I trust them to do it.”


	6. Elizabeth Stride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader and her friends are once more called upon for assistance, and she finds herself in close quarters with Dr Laufeyson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. I have been swamped with projects lately, and I genuinely appreciate those who still anticipate updates. You guys are, as always, a delight. I have brought in some sexual tension between Reader and Loki that will hopefully make up for the delay! Feedback and any thoughts at all are always welcome. Hope y’all enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://spoti.fi/2TA8e32): “Snuff” — Slipknot, “Raised by Wolves” — U2, “Not in Blood, But in Bond” — Hans Zimmer, “Lead Me Home” — Jamie N Commons

_30th September 1888, 12.00 am._

It was late on Saturday night when Sgt Rogers showed up at the brothel asking for your help yet again. You thought he seemed more urgent than usual and, upon asking for an explanation, he explained that Tony was beginning to get a little desperate for leads. Apparently, Strange was getting impatient too. You were no fool to this matter either, and completely aware of the current public displeasure being spread throughout the press.

So, when Steve came asking for your help, you, Natasha, and Wanda were more than happy to assist.

It was near enough to midnight when you wandered into the Princess Alice Pub on Commercial Street with your friends. You recognised some of the patrons who would have been considered regulars in the pub. While you and Wanda grabbed a table near the window, Natasha ordered a round of gatters for the group. You went about your usual business, drinking and chatting with the patrons. You turned down any advances, calmly explaining that you were actually waiting to meet someone. Your excuse was never questioned, as most men were reserved when they asked for your services in the first place. Though you were keeping an eye on your surroundings, no one sketchy really stood out — nothing bar the usual ones drinking that bit _too_ much.

When the second round of beers arrived, you offered to go and order them, leaving Wanda and Natasha together at your table. You weren’t standing at the bar long before you grabbed the barman’s attention and asked for the same drinks again. 

As you handed him payment, you were surprised to hear a familiar voice address you. “I say, we _must_ stop meeting like this, my dear.”

You turned to see a grinning Loki standing behind you. You couldn’t stop your own smile forming on your lips. “Loki!”

_He’s here? Did he just arrive, or have I failed to notice his presence until now?_

“That is my name, yes.”

Your retort was swift. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that you were stalking me, Doctor.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about _you_.” He took a seat on the stool beside you as your beers were placed on the counter. “Are you here with your friends?”

“Indeed I am. They’re over there.” 

You pointed to your companions, who waved at Loki when he saw them. The smirks they wore said a lot and you felt like rolling your eyes at their teasing. Natasha turned to Wanda, saying something in her ear before she got up and all but ran to the bar.

“Excuse me, you two,” she said and took two of the gatters. “I will just take my drinks and go back to my table. Don’t let me interrupt.”

You grew wide eyed. “Nat—”

“Bye, Y/N! We shall be over there working if you need us.”

_For the love of… I am going to give her a smack for that later._

You knew that her intentions wouldn’t go over Loki’s head, and the slightly raised brow he wore was merely confirmation of this fact. He met your gaze. “Working?”

“Eh, we are out on detective duty tonight,” you elaborated, hesitating to take a seat. “Stark’s orders. And you?”

“Out gallivanting as always. I have been out most of the evening as my private appointments finished early. Please,” he said, gesturing to the stool. “Join me for a drink.”

“I do not wish to interrupt your night.”

“Though I came here with the intention of drinking alone, your company is welcome.”

You hesitated again but, after giving him a once over, finally relented and sat down. He seemed pleased with your decision and ordered himself a gin. When the glass was placed in front of him, he turned his attention back to you. “So, Stark has you lot out working this evening?”

You nodded. “Steve came by earlier to ask. He said they are getting desperate for leads.”

“Quite,” Loki agreed, eyes drifting down to his drink. “There has been little progress on the case and I think Stark is beginning to feel the heat. The press are quite… _demanding_.”

“Rightly so. Though I like Tony, they really need to pick up a lead soon, or else more women will be killed. It is a matter of life or death, after all.”

“And I am sure you do not take that lightly, given your current employment and its ties to the victims.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, it’s not exactly comforting knowing that there’s a mad man out there murdering women like me. It’s not even necessarily about that either — not all of them are regular prostitutes. He seems to be just killing vulnerable women for the sake it.”

He tilted his head slightly at that. “I would imagine so. How is Wanda faring?”

“A lot better now, thank you.” You threw a cautionary glance her way and happened to catch her laughing happily at something Natasha had said. “I heard from Tony that the post-mortem showed that Annie was already quite sick. I know it was likely that she would die soon regardless, but it doesn’t really make it any easier.”

“I did not expect it to,” he said before pausing to sip on his drink. “It made my job no less harrowing as well.”

“The papers said it was awful. Apparently you lot think he may be a doctor now?”

He nodded. “A doctor or someone with basic anatomical knowledge, yes.”

“Jesus, this really _is_ dire.”

“You aren’t wrong, I shall give you that… Perhaps we should converse with regards a lighter subject? This is hardly something to discuss over a drink.”

“Well,” you drawled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “What do you usually talk to street walkers about?”

It was a bold and risky statement, but you thought it was worth it to see his reaction. He hummed at that, seemingly amused by the comment, and you briefly thought about how you quite liked that sound of his voice. It held a delicious tone to it — deep and low. There was something so elegant and otherworldly about this man, and it intrigued you to no end.

“I do not usually spend time in the company of such women,” he admitted, green eyes portraying nothing but honesty. “So I cannot really answer that question.”

“Really?” You couldn’t hide the surprise, but perhaps Dr Laufeyson was married? It was entirely possible, though he had admitted to having no family to you already. That being said, he was certainly handsome and charming, so him having a wife would not have surprised you. “Are you wed?”

The question seemed to entertain him. Either that or he was trying to hide any discomfort with such a thought. “No, no. As I told you, I do not have any family to speak of. I have _had_ women, yes, but no, I am not married. And I leave all the consorting with street walkers to Dr Banner.”

“You know he’s one of Natasha’s regulars?” 

He nodded. “He is a bad liar.”

“He is certainly a soft sort,” you agreed. “But that is not exactly a bad thing. He has been nothing but kind to her for years. If I’m honest with you, I think he is quite taken with her.”

“Possibly. Although I suppose you see them together far more than I ever would.”

“Definitely, but it’s not like it could ever work between them.”

As you paused to take a swig of your beer, Loki considered your words. “Yes, although many men in various social circles rely on prostitution.”

“I meant if he wished to make it something more. Their backgrounds are just too different. Many prostitutes are married yes, but Dr Banner could never do that. He works for the police, for God sake.”

There was a brief silence, in which Loki’s gaze drifted to focus on his glass. “Though I know that Dr Banner would be foolish enough to try, I think you may be right about that, Y/N.”

“I’ve worked long enough to know that it would not. Perhaps someday we will marry if we wish, but I doubt it would work for them in particular.”

It wasn’t a nice thought — realising that a couple could never be was harsh business — but you needed to be honest with yourself and your friends. Living in blissful ignorance would do you about as much good as living in self-pity. They were fierce beasts, and honesty and acceptance was what kept you alive and protected so far in life. And yet, despite your knowledge that succumbing to such notions would do you in, the thought that you would probably never marry a man in Loki’s profession was somewhat sad. No, you certainly weren’t desperate for a husband or children, but the option would have been nice. You certainly would have liked to in the future, but no, perhaps it wasn’t to be for you. At least not with someone like _him_. And yet, Loki had already told you that he was quite content in his own company, so maybe his desires were quite different to yours. You weren’t exactly sure _why_ you were spending so much energy contemplating being with someone like him. Bar your childhood sweetheart, you had no experience with relationships, so what was the point?

_Boredom, loneliness, curiosity… Take your pick._

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, gauging your reaction with an analytic expression.

“It is very rude for a gentleman to ask after a lady’s status,” you joked playfully. “Very rude indeed.”

“I am no gentleman.”

“You certainly look like a gentleman to me.”

His thin lips stretched into a smirk. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“So you’re telling me that I have been socialising with a scoundrel this whole time?”

“I prefer the term trickster. I think it is a more accurate description of my character.”

“Ah…” You drawled, letting your eyes wander up and down his defined torso. “I think I know men of your character quite well.”

He flashed you a smile, one that had your heart fluttering. “There are no men like me.”

Why is it that the more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear him continue? His voice was a weapon — one from which honeyed words flowed like an unstoppable torrent. The tone alone did things to you that were unfamiliar and oddly pleasing. You couldn’t help it — his mysteriousness, proud personality, and gorgeous appearance had you hooked. Whether he had intended to or not, Loki had ensnared you in his sinfully elegant hands.

_Yes,_ you thought. _I think I might push my luck with this fellow._

“No men like you?” you teased, looking sceptical. “That’s a bold statement to make.”

“Bold, but true, darling. Of that I can assure you.”

“Perhaps you can enlighten me then?”

For the briefest of moments, you saw the slight twitch in his eye and upturned corner of his mouth. You didn’t know Loki well enough to know whether this was positive or negative, but you knew the brazenness of your query had caught him off guard. “Oh?”

“And I can teach you how to speak with… women of my sort.”

You weren’t exactly sure why you suddenly felt so daring. Perhaps you were just going with the flow of the conversation, or perhaps your curiosity of Dr Laufeyson had gotten the better of you. You knew you weren’t throwing yourself at him, but rather tentatively dipping your toe in the pond. It was harmless flirting really; harmless flirting with a man you couldn’t help but be in intrigued by. 

_It’s no big deal,_ you thought, trying not to get distracted as he loosened his neckerchief. _I’m not getting myself into a situation like Nat and Dr Banner. This is just friendly banter!_

“Teach me?” he repeated lowly. You distinctly caught how he leaned a little closer to you, his head tilted at an angle. You liked this — perhaps his mischievousness accounted for a flirtatious attitude as well?

Your smile widened, confidence and amusement growing with each positive response. “Yes. Consider it an education, from which we can both benefit.”

“I think you are playing with fire, my dear.”

After taking another slug from your beer, you set it back down and rested your hand in the counter. “Perhaps I like playing with fire. Had you considered that, Doctor?”

His green eyes were piercing — incredibly so — and you couldn’t have looked away from them even if you tried. You couldn’t help but fuel that part of you that craved adventure. It was one of the reasons why you had taken on assisting Inspector Stark and his men. Despite knowing little of Loki, you couldn’t stop that part of you that kept tugging your form closer to his, eager to find out more. With the usual arrogance and mischievous attitude you had come to recognise, Loki mirrored your actions — he drank from his glass and then set it down on the countertop. When he let his arm rest beside it, it was also left dangerously close to yours. For a beat he remained silent, the time in which your mind raced with whether he had intentionally put himself in close quarters with you.

He cleared his throat then, and began to delicately run his fingers up and down the bare skin of our arm. His touch was feather-light but calculating, and sent goosebumps through your body. Whatever uncertainty that possessed you with regards his intentions was well and truly dashed.

“I suppose I should have,” he murmured, looking between you and the gentle movements of his hand. “And if you are so eager to play with it, then it is only fair that I provide.”

With the smashing of glass, the spell was broken. Loki discreetly removed his fingers from your arm, and lowered his gaze to his drink. A group from which the noise had come began to cheer, teasing their drunken friend who had dropped his early empty pint on the floor. You swallowed, brought out of the inappropriate daydream of this doctor that your mind had concocted.

He cleared his throat and finished the end of his gin. “I mustn’t take up all of your time this evening — especially if you are supposed to be working.”

“It is alright,” you began, probably embarrassingly quick as he got to his feet. “I promise you’re not bothering me—”

Despite your words, he hastily pulled on his coat. “That is reassuring, but I also think I have had quite enough to drink tonight.” He paused, grabbing his hat with unsteady fingers. His green eyes met yours and, although you presumed your expression to be hopeful and pleading, he pursed his lips and nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N. Thank you for the pleasure of your company.”

You barely had any time to register what had just occurred before the man’s lithe form had all but raced out of the pub. Equally disgruntled and confused with what went down, you turned to see Natasha and Wanda looking back at you. Once they had beckoned you over, you returned to their table.

“What the hell happened there?” Wanda asked, her face the epitome of bewilderment.

“I’m not sure,” you replied. “The conversation was going fine beforehand. I think he might have even been flirting with me a little bit.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yes, we could see that from over here. He may like to come across as very aloof, but it’s obvious to me that he fancies you.”

“I’m not trying to be a smart arse, but people look at us like that all the time. It somewhat comes with the profession.”

“Yes, but there’s not harm in having a little fun with him,” Wanda shrugged. “Especially if he wants to as well.”

“Running out of here with his tail between his legs hardly conveys that, now does it?”

“Perhaps he, you know, prefers men?”

You shrugged. “That is a valid excuse, but I doubt it very much.”

“The good ones are always a challenge, Y/N,” Natasha explained. “But they’re certainly worth it for the fun.”

Wanda laughed slightly. “And then you can join Nat’s club of shagging a doctor.”

Before Natasha could even retaliate, the Sokovian had dashed over to the bar for another round. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing her happy after all she had been through, but soon your own thoughts clouded your mind yet again.

“Don’t worry about it,” the red-head reassured you with genuine concern. “Men are unusual sometimes, but you will navigate this situation just fine.”

“I don’t really know what I want out of it,” you admitted sheepishly. “Yes, Loki is a good looking bloke, and yes I wouldn’t necessarily mind temporarily joining your club, but beyond that…”

With a wave of her hand, she hushed you. “You are getting way ahead of yourself. Stop overthinking and play this by ear, alright?”

“Alright. I shall try to relax a bit more.”

“Good, because I am always right. Not to mention, we are on the job tonight and we have a murderer to catch. This is no time to be worrying about _boys_.”

Leave it to your friends to ease your mind. They never failed to stop your overactive imagination from creating never-ending loops of anxiety. You soon managed to (mostly) banish any thoughts related to Dr Laufeyson, and instead focused your energy on helping to prevent more women being killed. It was near enough to 1.00 am when the three of you left the pub. The outside streets were still relatively busy despite the hour. You suggested that it might be a good idea to do a few laps of the surrounding area before you met PC Barnes later to regroup. 

You and your friends were chatting idly as you veered off the mainstream and down another one of the many laneways scattered throughout London. In the midst of making notes of some of the shadier characters that Wanda had noticed in the pub, the distant noise of police whistles cut threw the windy night air.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, standing dead still where you stood.

Natasha looked from you and then quickly turned to the other end of the lane, from which another whistle blew. “That cannot be good.”

“It might just be a fight,” Wanda suggested with a slight quiver in her voice. “A brawl, or a robbery.”

The temporary hope that maybe nothing serious had occurred was quickly dashed when cries of “Murder!” came swiftly from both civilians and policemen sprinting down the street.

“Come on!” one shouted to another. “There has been another murder.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath. “What do we do?”

Natasha’s reply came without a hint of hesitation. “Follow the crowd.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. You turned to gauge Wanda’s reaction, and she too agreed. “We came out here to do a job.”

“That we did.” You took a deep breath, and looked back at the street ahead, the cries for police still rising on the howling wind. She was right. “So let us go help whoever we can.”

Despite your thumping heart or you shaking hands, despite the nervous twisting in your gut that only rose with each passing second and each planted step, you forced yourself to move. Inspector Stark took you on to help other women who roamed these streets, and you weren’t about to turn your back on them. Not even with the terrifying thought of whatever horrors or beasts may await you in the darkness.

You ran as quick as you could, being sure to keep Wanda and Natasha close. It was easy to know where to go once you had locked on to a policeman and followed him as he sprinted towards the action. Gasping for breath and trying to ignore how the cool night air burned your lungs as they fought to work hard, you veered back on to Commercial Street. 

Rounding the corner, you weren’t prepared to hit a solid body at high speed. A pair of strong arms wrapped around you tight, preventing your body from slamming backwards into the pavement. You were about to fight off whoever had their hands on your body until you heard Natasha announce behind you.

“Dr Laufeyson!”

Your breath caught in your throat. With the adrenalin running high, you forced yourself out of his arms and, sure enough, was met with the wide green eyes you had been staring into not long ago.

“You’re alright!” Loki declared, ignoring all forms of pleasantries. He seemed relieved as he spoke, despite being obviously dishevelled and out of breath. “It is good to see you ladies.”

“I thought you went home?” you nearly barked, far more accusatory than you had intended. “What are you doing out here?”

“I…” He paused and quickly tried to gather himself as he pushed some hair out of his eyes. “I was nearly home when I heard there had been another murder in the area. I was worried about you three out working and… I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He blinked, then frowned. “Why are you lot still out here? Did you not hear that a woman was killed?”

“It is kind of hard to miss it,” Wanda replied impatiently, gesturing around them. “What with all the policemen running around screaming about it!”

“We have a job to do, Doctor,” Natasha added. “And we shan’t run away when there are women in danger. It could have been any of us.”

In the heat of the moment, you had little time to register that Loki had sprinting across Whitechapel to make sure that _you_ were alright. Had you been more relaxed, you might have even blushed like a school girl, but you could barely think straight. Instead, you looked at him curiously. “Should you not be on the scene?”

“Dearest Bruce was sent for,” he answered. “He is tending to matters there, and I am sure that Natasha will be happy to see him.”

Natasha rolled her eyes before restlessly ordering you and the others onwards. “Sod off. I do not have time to argue with you when there is a murder scene to find. Priorities, Doctor!”

Sensing the urgency, he eagerly agreed. “Come then. She was found on Berner Street.”

Now with another member of the group, you set off running once more. The streets came to life with panic, and people either headed towards the commotion or away from it. It was shortly after 1.00 am when you arrived on the street, and Loki quickly led you and your friends into Dutfield's Yard, a narrow yard situated between No. 40, also known as the International Working Men’s Educational Club, and No. 42. The crowd of onlookers had already grown to around twenty to thirty people, and police were desperately trying to control the rabble. Amongst the throng you spotted PC Wilson and Sgt Rogers. 

When they noticed your arrival, the latter was quick to approach, despite the chaos. “Ladies, I was not expecting you. And Loki, you know that we have Dr Banner here working now.”

Loki nodded. “I know, Sergeant, but they wished to come and help if they could.”

Though Steve looked a little skeptical, he seemed willing to oblige. “Very well. We have alerted Inspector Stark by telegram, but perhaps you could identify her while we wait for his arrival?”

“Maybe,” you offered. “Where is she?”

Steve lead you away from the crowd to where the victim lay. Around the body stood a number of police constables, overseeing Dr Banner as he stooped over her and studied her injuries. Your eyes immediately veered to the ugly deep gash in her throat, partially hidden beneath a torn checked silk scarf. A pool of blood lay beneath her, and it was tough for you to focus solely on her face when such a sight lay before you.

_Get it together, Y/N,_ you thought to yourself. _You are here to help. It does not look good for her, but you can still help somehow._

Though her still face was turned into the wall, you did your best to take in her features. She had a pale complexion, light gray unmoving eyes, and curly dark brown hair atop her head. She was dressed in all black, topped with a long black cloth jacket, fur trimmed around the bottom with a red rose and white maiden hair fern pinned to its breast. You studied her for what felt like a long time, feeling the eyes of Sgt Rogers boring into the back of your head. And yet, you were disappointed to admit that you didn’t recognise this poor women.

“I do not know her,” you said, unable to hide the disappointment in your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I might,” Natasha offered and, upon speaking, caused Dr Banner to nearly jump out of his own skin. Apparently so transfix with his work, he only noticed your arrival when hearing her voice.

“At ease, Bruce,” Loki said, hushing him as his colleague steadied his eye glasses. He squatted down to help exam her cut throat. “Our friends are here to help.”

“O-of course,” Dr Banner replied, blushing deeply and avoiding eye contact with the red head.

“You know her, Nat?” Wanda asked curiously.

“I do not know her personally, but I know her to see. I think I have heard people calling her Long Liz.”

“Long Liz?” Steve repeated before quickly jotting it down into his notepad. “Good, that will hopefully help to identify her.”

“I am sorry I can’t offer you much else, handsome, but that is all I have. Ask around and I am sure you will find someone who knows the poor woman.”

“It is more than enough,” he replied with a slight cough. “As always, you ladies have my thanks, and that of the Metropolitan Police.”

“She is most definitely dead,” Dr Banner announced, checking her pulse as Loki studied the wound in her neck. “But she is still slightly warm. She cannot have been killed more than twenty or thirty minutes ago.”

“I agree,” Loki offered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “And that means he cannot have gone far.”

“Who cannot have gone far?” announced a voice from behind them, and you turned to see Inspector Stark shimmying his way through the crowd with PC Barnes in tow. He seemed slightly frazzled, even when he gave you all a pleasant greeting despite the circumstances. “Please tell me there is some _good_ news. Strange is going to have my arse if he wakes up tomorrow morning to another murder and no leads.”

“The killer might still be in the area,” Steve offered, before gesturing to you, Natasha, and Wanda. “And we have a small lead, in the form of a nickname for the victim. Thanks to these ladies.”

Stark turned to you, and placed his hand softly on your shoulder. All sarcasm had left his body, but you supposed it was an inappropriate time. There was action, which meant that the leader had arrived to help. “As always, you three are much appreciated. But unfortunately we also have another dead woman on our hands, so a nickname is being quite overshadowed at the moment.”

Wanda shook her head. “Trust us, we agree. We would much rather this had not happened, as do the angry crowd it would seem.”

“Ah, yes, _that_.” He threw a dissatisfied glance at the crowd. “They are the least of my worries right now. This lady and her killer come first. Report, Dr Banner?”

“Her throat has been cut, but other than a small abrasion under her right arm, there has been none of the usual goings on. No disembowelment, no removal or organs…”

“Is this still the work of our apparent Ripper?”

You were confused by the nickname while Bruce continued. “Well, she was discovered at 1.00 am, and going off my time of death judgement which is between twenty and thirty minutes ago, it is quite possible that he was walked up on and interrupted. The throat seems hastily cut.”

“Who found her?”

“A man called Louis Diemschutz,” Sgt Rogers explained and pointed to a nearby figure who was being questioned by police. “The Steward of the International Workingmen's Educational Club. He had spent the day hawking cheap jewellery at Westow Hill Market in Sydenham Hill before returning here. He was turning his pony and cart into the yardwhen the pony noticed the woman on the ground and refused to go any further. He said that when looking into the yard, he saw a dark form lying on the ground close to the wall of the club, and proceeded to poke it with his whip, and then tried to lift it. After being unsuccessful, he jumped down to investigate and struck a match to get a better view, though the wind extinguished it rather quickly. He did manage to see that it was a woman lying on the ground. Apparently, he assumed it to be his wife, who was attending the club tonight, so he ventured inside and, upon finding his wife alive and well, gathered some more club member to discern if the woman in the yard was dead or drunk. Now with a candle in hand, he noticed blood by her body, and her slashed throat.”

“Be sure to double check that his alibi is a valid one, just to be safe.”

“Of course, Inspector. He also said that he thought the killer may have still been in the yard when he arrived, given his pony’s unusual behaviour.”

“Dr Laufeyson, you said this lunatic may be nearby?”

“Quite. Given Dr Banner’s conclusion with regards her time or death, he cannot have gone too far.”

“Blast it… Then here is what we shall do. Sergeant, I want policemen on as many streets as we can manage, searching for this sick bastard before he gets his hands on someone else. You shall remain here and get the names and addresses of every single onlooker in that crowd. Dr Banner and Dr Laufeyson, continue your examination for as long as you like, and gather all you can from the scene.”

“I would very much like to accompany the men on patrol, if that is alright,” Loki requested as he got to his feet. “Bruce well and truly has this covered, and I know you could use an extra man.”

Though Tony appeared momentarily perturbed, he agreed, allowing Loki to join the other constables in their search.

“Do you want us to search too?” you asked, eager to get out and lend another hand.

“With all due respect, ladies, I would much rather if you three were off the streets for the rest of the night. I will have PC Barnes accompany you back to Commercial Street Station.”

You argued with his decision — of course you did — but you knew it was foolish. This man was an Inspector, and his word was final. Nor did Steve or even Loki vouch for you. They all wanted you hidden away for your own safety and, despite the burning urge you had to incite revenge on the monster that did this, you couldn’t win. All of them agreed that you had to go. The only one who seemed a bit torn with the whole affair was Loki, who watched you intently as Bucky lead you back to the station.

The place was practically deserted when you arrived, with only Happy there to welcome you inside. Bucky had been charged with keeping you in the station until Inspector Stark returned and, with no idea how long they would be, immediately offered to make you tea and sandwiches. Needing something to distract yourself, you accepted the food. You spent two hours there snacking on sandwiches and drinking your weight in tea. Bucky didn’t seem eager about discussing the case, and chose to talk to you aimlessly about your work and life in general. It was only when you questioned him about Stark’s new nickname for the killer did he allow himself to talk about it.

He looked at you and asked with a mouthful of bread and ham. “What do you mean?”

“When we were at the scene, Tony called him Ripper — has he even gifted the murder his own nickname?”

“Oh,” he mumbled and swallowed his food. “It’s uh, it’s not a nickname that Stark gave him. I suppose I can tell you ladies about it because you are part of the investigation.”

You and your friends couldn’t help but look at him in an accusatory manner. You set your tea down with a sigh. “So, you are hiding information from us now?”

“No! Course not. We had not yet released the information the public. Look, yesterday, Inspector Stark was passed on a letter for the Central News Agency. They claimed to have received it themselves a few days before, and it was apparently signed by the killer. He bragged about the killings and laughed about our struggles to find him. Even wrote the bloody thing in _red ink_ like a nutter… But he called himself Jack the Ripper.”

“How theatrical,” you said evenly. “And uncurbed.”

“He sounds like a right piece of work,” Wanda added.

The constable agreed. “Right you are. But don’t speak a word of this to anyone, alright? We do not know when we shall make it public knowledge—”

“ _Barnes!”_

Whatever further explanation Bucky was ready to divulge was cut short. Chief Inspector Strange burst through the entrance to the station, rather unceremoniously and visibly enraged. 

Despite the intrusion, the constable remained in his seat beside you, and drank a sup of his tea. “Mornin’, Chief Inspector.”

“Morning?” Strange spluttered. “ _Morning_ , Constable? That is all you have to say?”

“Uh, tea?”

“Oh, for God’s sake… I was woken from my sleep to hear that _another_ woman was killed! Did I not order you all to find new leads?”

“You did, and we were all out in the field tonight trying to find them.”

Strange ran his eyes over you, appearing both exhausted and frustrated in every sense of the word. It was the first time you had seen him legitimately frazzled, and you wisely kept your mouth shut. Even Natasha seemed unwilling to tease him.

“This is to be the _last_ one,” the chief inspector remarked. “When this hits the papers tomorrow, the public is sure to go mad. No more bodies, I shan’t have it. This is the _final_ one, yes?”

You had not expected another interruption so soon after the first, but it seemed that the night was about to get much worse.

In the door came a burly-looking man, decked out in a police uniform somewhat similar to that of PC Barnes. Slightly out of breath, he removed his helmet and greeted Strange with a nod. “Chief Inspector? I am PC Grillo of the City Police. I was told to come find an Inspector at this station as quickly as I could.”

Strange’s face hardened almost immediately. “What is it?”

PC Grillo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a torn piece of apron, stained deep red with spilled blood. “There has been another murder, Chief Inspector, on our territory this time.”

“ _Another one?”_ you exclaimed before you could hold yourself back. Your hands shook as you clasped them together. “In the same night?”

PC Grillo nodded, his lips pulled into a tight line. “You best follow me as quickly as you can. You need to see this.”


End file.
